Zero One Arc: Book II: Mission One
by The Manwell
Summary: Life has settled since Heero discovered the existence of his mysterious double, Yokaze. But when the colonies are threatened, everything begins to change... Please read The Perfect Soldier first. (Complete)
1. Prologue

**Mission**** One**

**.**

Sequel to _The__ Perfect Soldier_

A Gundam Wing Fan Fiction

Recorded for Posterity by The Manwell

**.**

**.**

**_And now, a few friendly words from the author..._****__**

            Greetings, all.  Welcome to my little corner of Anime Land.  Before your quest beings, there are some things that should be said.

            First, do to a decided lack of space for an adequate summary, I shall take the opportunity to tell you a bit more about the tale you are considering before you actually wade through it.  _Mission One_ is a story about the things the five former gundam pilots come to treasure in their lives.  The things they live for and, eventually, must fight to protect.  The categories chosen for this story (Drama/Humor) are accurate.  There is some action, a fair smattering of angst, and a moment or two of lust but the story _is_ primarily a drama.  So do not complain about the lack of bullets pinging about.

            Second, this story contains original characters.  Why?  Well, because none of us go through life in a vacuum.  Eventually, we meet new people who change our lives in unique ways.  This is no exception for the G-boys.  But don't worry; this show is definitely about Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton, Quatre Reberba Winner, and Wufei Chang.

            Third, this story is rated PG-13 for a REASON... well, actually, several reasons: language, sexual innuendos, nudity, violence, and homosexuality.  But don't worry; it's all very tastefully done (I promise).  While I am quite capable of writing smut, I chose not to do so in this instance.  (But if you enjoy a bit of good smut just as much as the next person, feel free to make a request because you never know...  Does the phrase "side story" mean anything to anyone?)

            Fourth, I am gaining nothing from writing this fiction except (reviewers willing) a nice ego boost.  All standard disclaimers apply: the Gundam Wing characters belong to their respective owners, just as the original characters are mine, mine, mine, _all _mine.

            There, now that we've cleared some things up a bit, you are now prepared to make an educated decision about whether or not you'd like to proceed...

**.**

**.**

**Prologue**

A.C. 204

**.**

_            **A chair.******_

_            The whites of a man's eyes flash in the artificial light of the colony._

_            A smile filled with sharp, strong, white teeth._

_            The white._

_            Chiseled features._

_            The ice-blue eyes smile benignly._

_            "Zero-one," the man says affectionately.  "You've come home.  I've been waiting for you."_

            Yokaze's eyes snap open.  She stares at the foreign ceiling for a long moment before remembering that she is no longer on L1, no longer in the shadow of _him._  The pale light that leaks into her hotel room through the curtain tells her it's nearly dawn here.  L349.  She can hear Jarret's snores through the wall.  The rest of the band is sleeping soundly.  They've earned it.  Last night had been the final performance in a long tour and finally, after months away, she would be heading back to L2 this afternoon.  Back to Kathy and George.  Back to Trowa.  Back to the children at the school.  Back to teaching singing and self defense at Bloom's Academy for the Arts.

            She leans back into the pillows, only then realizing that she'd sat up upon waking.  She lays there, breathing.  Thinking.  Hating the dream.  Hating the possibility.  Hating _him._  Hating the chains that still cling to her mind, chains from which she will never truly be free.

            Sleep will not visit her again tonight.  Yokaze swings her legs over the side of the bed and scrubs her face with her hands.  She glances around the room for a distraction.  The light on her laptop is dark; she has no messages.  But she approaches the machine anyway.  Perhaps someone else is awake.  She opens the computer and as the screen flashes to life, she dials the familiar number.

            "Maxwell Mechanics."

            "Hey, bro."

            "Yokaze."  Heero's image blinks at her from the screen.

            "What's shakin'?"

            "Duo's room."

            "Is he snoring again?"

            Heero takes a sip of his coffee and looks peeved in place of an affirmative reply.  "What time is it there?" he asks, checking his own watch.

            "Dawn.  Couldn't sleep."

            "Hn."

            Yokaze runs a hand through her hair and sighs.  "Do you still have dreams about the organization?"

            Heero holds up his cup of coffee and nods to it.  "Been up for two whole hours hating them."

            Yokaze chuckles.  "You've got a head-start on me, there."  She eyes his cup of coffee enviously.

            "Speaking of...  Taki and Wufei showed up yesterday afternoon at the academy.  Thought I'd better warn you."

            "Thanks.  I'll consider myself warned."

            "Too bad you live there," he says lightly.

            "I am absolutely, positively, without a doubt, never, ever in my life moving in with you and Duo," she replies firmly.  "So quell it."

            He shrugs.  "The offer's always on the table."

            Yokaze relaxes a bit.  "I know.  Thanks."

            "Sure."  Sip.

            "Well, my shuttle gets in just in time for breakfast.  I'll see you at the academy?"

            "Yeah.  I'll be there."

            "Is George cooking?"

            "I hope so."

            "Hn."  Yokaze smiles as a very rumpled-looking Duo wanders through the background, his hair fizzed out in an unmistakable Afro.  "Didn't braid it before he fell asleep, huh?"

            Heero glances over his shoulder and smothers a grin.  "Looks that way."

            Stirring sugar into his coffee, Duo catches sight of his reflection and yelps.

            "Um, I think I'll let you go sort that out," she tells her brother.

            His reply is far from appreciative.

            Yokaze is still smiling as she terminates the call.  The sunlight fighting its way into her room is a little stronger now.  She stands and stretches, glad that she'd called.  Glad that she'd had someone _to_ call.  As she wanders toward the shower, the dream is not forgotten but is pushed back into the shadows where it waits for another moment of weakness, another opportunity.  

**.**

**~End of Prologue~**


	2. Chapter 1: Home

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 1: Home**

**.**

            **Taki slaps** her sketch book onto the end table and stands up.  She ignores the grin struggling to life on Wufei's face as she paces the room.  She doesn't know what he thinks is so funny; she'd explained the situation on the shuttle over here:

            _"At any and all opportunities, you must interrogate Heero and Trowa.  I'll take Duo and Yokaze."_

_            "And what information am I supposed to be gathering?"_

_            She ignores his incredulous tone and rolls her eyes.  "If anybody's getting any!  I need details here.  When, where, how often..."_

_            "You want me to ask Heero and Trowa—the Untalkables—about their love lives?"_

_            "Well, ye-ah.  I'd do it, but they'd probably shoot me."_

_            "What makes you think I'm any safer?"_

_            "Nothing.  I just think that if one of us is going to get shot, better you than me." _

_            He snorts.  "And why would I do this for you?"_

_            "Trust me, Dragon Boy.  You want to keep me happy here."_

The last time Taki had seen Duo and Heero in person had been a few Christmases ago and neither had given off any clues.  No lovey stuff in sight.  But no anti-love vibes, either.  Ditto for Yokaze and Trowa.  It was absolutely maddening.  It was beyond Taki how Wufei could _survive_ not knowing.

            Turning on her heel, she catches his humor-filled gaze.  Obviously, he isn't intending to take things seriously.  It looks like it'll be up to her.  Somehow, she'll have to worm the truth out of Duo and Yokaze.  And watch Heero and Trowa like a hawk, naturally.

            She checks her watch and wonders when Yokaze's shuttle is supposed to get in.  And she isn't the only one waiting.  Kathy sits on the common room couch chatting with Duo about life.  Heero leans toward the display of school photographs on the far wall looking for Yokaze's familiar face, no doubt.  Taki glances at the nearest photo: the fencing class.  It's a bit of a shock to see the reluctant smile on Yokaze's face as she poses with the students, mask tucked under her arm and rapier pointed down.

            Yokaze smiling while surrounded by children.

            Weird.

            Well, at least she hadn't been wearing a dress.  That would have been just too much.  Taki takes a fortifying breath and moves on to the next framed photo but pauses as a sound reaches her ears.  The sound of someone... no two people... laughing.

            She turns just as the door bursts open revealing Yokaze and Trowa leaning on each to keep the other from falling to the ground with mirth.  Eyes watering and breathless, Yokaze turns to Trowa.  "That was- a really- _really­_- good joke."

            "Thanks."

            "What joke?" Kathy says automatically.

            Holding Yokaze's gaze for a moment longer, Trowa says, "You tell it this time."  With gentle hands, he picks up her bass guitar and duffle bag then disappears up the stairs.

            Yokaze grins at her audience and launches into this small story about these two naked statues, one of a man and one of a woman, who are given life for thirty minutes by this passing angel.  "...So the man grabs the woman's hand and they run off into these bushes.  And the bushes are rustling, branches are shaking, and there's all this giggling.  Well, after fifteen minutes they both come out, flushed and panting.  The angel says, 'Finished so soon?  You've still got time.  Are you sure you don't want to do that again?'  The man looks at the woman and asks, 'You wanna do that again?'  'Yeah,' she says, 'You wanna hold the pigeon while I shit on it this time?'"

            "Trowa told you that joke?" Kathy says, laughing.

            "Yeah.  Pretty good, isn't it?" she replies competing with Duo's laughter.  

Even Heero is not immune: he is shaking his head and chuckling.  He walks over and Yokaze gives him a hug.  Although they still share several physical characteristics, it is now obvious which is which, a marked difference from six years ago when the two of them had been nearly identical.  Heero had gotten taller and broader and had become—Taki also notes—a real hottie.  Yokaze had gotten a bit curvier and there is something in her posture and her walk that proclaims: "I am woman, God dammit."

            "Where's George?" Yokaze muses.

            "Cooking."

            "Thank God."

            A motion at the edge of the room catches Taki's attention: Trowa has returned, his green eyes focused on Yokaze.  

            "If Trowa hadn't told me that joke he might be walking around with one less arm or something."

            "You don't mind that Yokaze is a biter, do you Trowa?"  The opening is too good for Taki to ignore.

            A tiny smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.  "Not at all," he says and Taki gets the impression that he knows she doesn't know.  She tries to look unassuming just to throw him off, but perhaps it's just her chronic paranoia that's laughing at her and not Trowa's green eyes.  Still...

            "You didn't put my stuff in the room next to Taki and Wufei, did you?"  Yokaze glares at Trowa in suspicion.  

            A tiny smirk twitches at the corner of Trowa's mouth.  "What if I did?"

            "I am not sleeping with those two making all that noise on the other side of the wall," she enunciates.

            "Hey, we do not make any noise," Taki objects.

            "Excuse me," Yokaze replies, "but I have recordings.  I was saving them for blackmail and drinking parties," she says, answering Taki's unasked question.  Taki blushes and Wufei gulps as Yokaze turns back to Trowa.  "I'll fight you for it.  After breakfast.  Basement gym.  No pads."

            Trowa nods.  "Alright."

            "Can I watch?" Taki hurries to inquire, ignoring Wufei's attempt to slap his hand over her mouth.

            Duo jumps up.  "Me, too.  I'd like to see Yokaze kick your ass, man."

            Trowa levels a mute stare on Duo.

            Duo just grins in reply.  Heero rolls his eyes.  "No, you will not watch, Duo, because there will be no fight."  Translation: _no one_ is _ever_ going to hit his sister.

            Yokaze grins and slides an arm around Heero's muscled waist.  "Aw, don't make me fight you for a fight with Trowa.  Besides, I've been really looking forward to kicking his ass."

            Helpless in the face of the hope shining in Yokaze's eyes, Heero makes an incoherent noise in the back of his throat which could mean anything.  But Yokaze says, "I knew you'd understand."

            Heero glares at her.  "You promise you're going to kick his ass?"

            "I swear."

            Shooting a second, more lethal glare at his old friend over Yokaze's head, he relents.  "Well, alright then."  _You hit her and I'll kill you._

            Trowa accurately reads Heero's glare and nods.

            Just then, George sticks his head in the room.  "Hey!  Y-you're here!

            "I'm here," Yokaze replies.  "And I'm starving."

            "G-good, 'c-cause I'm c-cooking.  C-c'mon in.  Eggs b-b-benedict are g-getting c-cold."

            "Sweeter words, you have never spoken, George."  Yokaze glances at Kathy and smiles.  "Well, not to _me_ anyway."

            Kathy grins with secret knowledge about her husband of four years.  "Oh, he has some really good moments," she says to the room at large, causing George to blush and disappear on a stutter about checking something on the stove.

            One by one, they all file into the dinning room and settle around the feast George had lovingly prepared in honor of Yokaze's return.  Small talk fills the room around the sounds of silverware clinking against porcelain.  First helpings and second helpings come and go.  Finally, on the excuse of starting up the coffee maker, Trowa disappears into the kitchen.

            Taki is listening to a story Kathy is telling about what George had done for their anniversary last year—who knew he was such a mushy romantic?—when Yokaze also gets up.

            "Anyone want more juice?"

            Her inquiry is lost in the morning munchings and she heads for the kitchen.  It takes Taki a whole ten minutes to realize that neither Trowa nor Yokaze has returned to their seats.  With a start and clatter of silverware, she hops out of her chair and races into the kitchen, only to reappear a moment later, breathless.

            "George, how the hell do you get to the basement gym in this place?"

**.**

            **She walks **into the dark room expecting an attack.  She is not disappointed.  From the darkness, a strong hand grabs her wrist and pulls her against a muscled, male body.  She twists and steps backward, pulling her opponent over her back and onto the padded floor.  But the hand around her wrist does not budge and she is pulled down on top of him.

            Long, graceful hands seek her waist in the darkness.  She twitches as he finds her most ticklish spot.  Her legs curl around his as they tumble through the blackness.  She fumbles for his wrist as she laughs, as she listens to his soft laughter in her ear, as she feels his warm breath against her neck.

            Side by side, they struggle on the floor to get the best of the other.  Finally, she grabs his wrist and pulls his arm away from her.  Panting, she leans her forehead on his shoulder.  "I... have missed... this," she tells him.

            "I've missed you," he replies, his words barely more than a whisper.

            In reply, her hand releases his wrist and whispers its way up along his arm to his shoulder and nape.  Her legs slide along his, relaxing.

            "Trowa?"

            "Yes."

            She shivers.  "Ah, you've just whispered my favorite word."

            She can feel his smile against her throat.  The hand at his nape tenses, coaxing him to look at her.  Her weight shifts until she's crouching over him, staring down at his face in the dark.  Her free hand brushes at his wild hair.  She can feel his fingers around her wrist caressing little patterns into her skin.

            "Trowa...  I'm going to kiss you.  I hope you're all right with that."

            There is a long pause as Yokaze settles her body against his.  He is breathless when he finally speaks: "_Yes._"

            Her lips brush his, nibble, massage.  She can taste the maple syrup and coffee on his lips.  She attempts to lick it off with little, tentative touches of her tongue.  Her teeth scrape his lower lip as his mouth opens to her.  She can feel his hesitation.  It is as if he is not convinced she'd been truly serious about wanting to kiss him.  She can feel his fingers in her hair, pulling her down to him.  She smiles.  He doesn't need to ask her twice.  She'd been thinking about doing this for... for a very long time.

            She kisses him fully and shivers as she feels his response, feels his arms encircle her, feels his thighs move against hers.  So much strength, and yet he holds himself back as if expecting her to change her mind, to break away from him.

            Suddenly, a thought occurs to her.  "How long before Taki barges in on us?" she whispers against his mouth.

            "Any moment," he mouths back.

            "God dammit."

            "Amen."

            She kisses him again, unleashing her passion.  Yokaze expects him to respond in kind, but he merely absorbs her passion rather than exposing his own.  She wonders about this.  Wonders if he is convinced _he_ truly wants to kiss _her._  She leans away, both hearing and feeling the sound he exhales against her skin.  She nuzzles his neck and feels his muscles flex along his jaw.  His body is telling her one thing, but his restraint tells her another.

            "I think I hear her."

            Yokaze swears.  Swiftly, she uses the hand still wrapped around her wrist to turn him onto his stomach.  He lays quietly with his arms trapped behind his back and Yokaze leaning over him.  She leans down and whispers into his ear, "Do you know what this means?"  She doesn't wait for his reply.  "This means you get the room next to Taki and Wufei... unless you want to share, of course."

            "I—"

            "What are you two doing?"

            "Rolling around in the dark," Yokaze says as the lights flicker on above them.  She offers Taki and Heero a victorious grin.  She gingerly climbs off of Trowa and approaches her brother.  "See?  No worries.  I kicked his ass good, didn't I, Trowa?"

            "Yes."

            Taki examines Trowa.  No bruises in sight.  He doesn't limp as he gets to his feet, either.  His hair is disheveled.  And, is she imagining it, or are his lips just a tad swollen?  And is that a smile?

            Yokaze sighs.  "Yup, been really looking forward to kicking some ass.  I think I'll go unpack now."       And with that, she sweeps from the room.  Heero stares after her.  Taki stares at Trowa, who is still smiling his ghost of a smile.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 1~**


	3. Chapter 2: The News

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 2: The News**

**.**

            **Quatre glances** up at the dinning room clock.  It's nearly noon.  Soon, Bisho should be arriving for their weekly brunch.  Quatre paces the room as he waits, anticipates.  It is no secret among his staff that this is the appointment Quatre looks forward to the most.  Ever since he had met Bisho on L2 years ago, he has believed she is special.  And the past five years have not proven him wrong.

            And in those past five years, the connection between himself and Duo's younger sister has become harder and harder for Quatre to ignore.  She reminds him of himself when he had run away from home to fight in the war.  So full of energy and conviction and adventure.  When he looks in her eyes, sometimes he thinks he can see a ghost of himself.

            Quatre examines his apartment and sighs.  So little of that other life he'd once lead still remains.  And he misses the others.  How long has it been since he'd seen them?  Perhaps he should send a message to Trowa, to say "Hi."  Perhaps Yokaze is on L2 by now...  Quatre smiles.  The last message Trowa had sent him had mentioned her return date.  It doesn't take a genius to figure out Trowa has been looking forward to seeing her again.  Without a doubt, Quatre's best friend had been counting down the days, hours, and minutes to her arrival.  In Quatre's mind, Trowa's affection for Yokaze is a matter of fact.  But Quatre doubts that Trowa has ever confessed it.  Perhaps things will be different this time...

            The door chime intrudes on Quatre's thoughts.  Relieved, he crosses the common room to answer the summons.

            "Bisho," he says.  The sight of her has of late always managed to leave him feeling a bit breathless.

            She smiles.  "Hey, Quatre.  How's your week been?  I've got the most amazing news, that's why I'm late.  I'm really sorry about that, by the way.  They just called me...  Quatre, I got it."  And with that, she throws her arms around his neck and hugs him fiercely.

            Laughing, Quatre kicks the door closed and hugs her back.  "Got what?  What's your amazing news?"

            She pulls back.  "The internship.  I got it.  It's on that new, privately funded colony.  They're looking for some engineering students to develop this new ventilation system..."  Bisho stops and grins.  "You don't want to hear about all that boring stuff."

            Quatre smiles.  "Sure I do.  Have you told Duo yet?"

            She shakes her head.  "Not yet."

            He gestures to his study.  "Why don't you call him?  He might be at the academy if he's not at the garage.  Yokaze just flew in today."

            "Thanks, Quatre.  Can brunch wait while I make the call?"

            "Of course.  Go.  Call.  Share the good news."

            With a smile, she heads for Quatre's study, unaware of the strange emotion pressing in on Quatre's chest in her wake.

**.**

            **"So, Duo...**  What's new?" Taki says, sitting down across from him at the kitchen island.

            "Not much."

            "Is Heero still a grouch?"

            "Every morning."

           "Ah, well, it's nice to know some things in this universe are a constant."  Taki watches Duo as she examines his reply: _Every morning._  Dare she read anything into that?

            Duo laughs.  "Yeah, Heero is pretty constant.  Although he did scare the crap out of me the other day.  Suggested we paint the garage pink.  I think he was joking.  I _hope_ he was joking."

            Taki blinks.  "Yeah, I can see how you'd be... traumatized by that."  Time to get down to business.  Taki takes a deep breath.  "And how's your love life treating you?"

            Duo laughs again.  "What love life?  I'm a small business owner, Taki."

            "But Heero helps out with the garage, right?"

            "Yeah.  I don't know how I'd manage on my own.  I'm lucky he likes to tinker around on gadgets and gizmos like I do."

            "You two have good chemistry.  That helps."

            Duo blinks at her.  "You think he... that he works at the garage because I'm there?"

            "Well," Taki says, thinking fast, "how many friends does Heero have?  I mean, if that's not the shortest list in the world...  It's just a thought.  You don't think so?"

            "I've never thought about it," he admits.

            Taki lazily lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug.  "Maybe you should," she replies quietly.  "I mean, in all honesty, I have no idea if you two are involved or anything—"  She ignores the strangled sound Duo makes.  "—but I always thought you two would get together eventually."  From Duo's stunned expression, Taki decides that no such miracle has occurred... yet.

            Duo stares at Taki.  He opens his mouth to comment, to say... something, hell, _anything._

            "Sorry."  Kathy's voice floats over to them from the doorway.  "Duo, you've got a call from Bisho."

            "Thanks, Kathy."

            "In the library," she tells him as he passes.  After Duo disappears around the corner, Kathy turns her attention to Taki, who is trying very hard to look anything but devious.  "I know what you're up to," Kathy says.

            "Really?  You wanna help?"

            Kathy laughs.  "No.  I'm staying out of it.  My own life is hard enough to stay on top of as it is."

            "But you've got to admit that Heero and Duo—"

            "—will work everything out in their own time."

            Taki grumbles.

            Kathy laughs.  "You're hopeless, Taki."

            She sighs.  "Yeah, I know.  But I'm addicted to romance."

            "Well, the first step is recognizing the problem," Kathy says wisely.

            Taki sends her a peeved look, then smiles.  "Oh, Kath.  I just wouldn't be _me_ if I wasn't messing in _someone's_ life."

**.**

            **Yokaze glances** up from her laptop to watch Trowa noisily puttering around the kitchen of their apartment.  She listens to water boiling on the stove and the sound of hands rummaging for something in the knife drawer.  All day both he and she had said nothing about their... er... encounter that morning.  And she seriously doubts Trowa will bring it up.  But from the crashes and bangs issuing from the kitchen, he is probably still a tad bit distracted by it.

            With a sigh she sets her computer to suspend mode and stretches.  It looks like she's going to have to make the first gesture here.  She strides to the kitchen and leans against the doorway, just watching him move.  She knows he senses both her presence and her gaze.  The muscles across his shoulders tense.  He is preparing to chop some fresh parsley when Yokaze steps forward.

            "Here," she tells him, holding out her hand.  "Let me take care of that."

            He hands her the knife without more than a glance.  She takes it, letting their fingers brush, then sets it aside and laces her hand through his.

            "Trowa."

            At last, he looks at her.

            Yokaze holds his gaze, trying to glimpse his thoughts.  "Should I apologize for this morning?"

            "What do you mean?"

            "Well, I'm starting to wonder if I didn't give you a choice one way or the other with that kiss.  I didn't mean to... force—"

            "You didn't."

            "But you held yourself back."

            Finally, Trowa offers her a tiny smile.  "Your timing really sucked."

            She laughs.  "Yeah, yeah, it did."

            They stare at each other for a long moment.  Once more, he starts tracing circles on her skin with his thumb.

            "How's now?" she asks huskily.

            She watches Trowa swallow with difficulty.  Silently, he nods once, his gaze never leaving hers.  Yokaze wonders which of them is the more desperate soul-searcher.  She steps closer, closing the space between them and brushing her body against his.  Yokaze lifts her face to his.  Her lips find the corner of his mouth.  He turns toward her, his lips seeking hers.

            Trowa tries to push the chaos from his mind, the unanswered questions, the inability to comprehend the _why_ of this situation.  He forces himself to think only of the _now._  Now, Yokaze is teasing his mouth open with her own.  Now, she is sliding her other hand up his shoulder to his pulse.  Now, he can hear the small noise she makes in the back of her throat as he threads his hand into her hair.  He wonders at how it is so easy to kiss her now, to fulfill this fantasy he's been entertaining ever since he'd seen her sing at The Red Eye so long ago.

            "We kiss like we've been doing it forever," she whispers against his lips.

            He opens his mouth but no sound emerges.  Instead, he slants his mouth over hers once more.  What is it about her that brings out the unease, the tension, the hunger in him?  Why is it that when he feels her hands and mouth on him, does he feel so alive?  As if he's truly himself.  As if his true self is something beautiful and precious.

            "Yokaze," he mouths.

            "The one and only.  Thank you for the name, by the way," she whispers into his pulse.

            "I should have named you after..."

            "After?"

            Trowa tries to concentrate with her lips worrying his ear.  "After I began to truly care for you."

            "A mere technicality," she replies.  "I like my name.  And I like that _you_ gave it to me, Triton."

            The sound of his true name in her hushed and husky voice loosens the knot holding his composure together.  He gently but firmly twists Yokaze's arm behind her back, pushing her body closer still.  She looks up at him as he releases her hand and slides his palm lightly up her spine.      

            "So," she says, bringing both of her arms up to rest on his shoulders.  "What were you saying about sharing that room?  For or against?"

            He smiles.  A chuckle rises out of him as he holds Yokaze.  She grins back, her cobalt eyes shining with mischief.  Taking a deep breath, he rests his forehead against hers.  "Guess."

            She shakes her head.  "Tell."

            "For."

            "Thank God."

            "Amen."  Trowa brushes his fingers against her temple and into her hair.  He watches her eyes slide closed, leans down to her mouth, whispers her name against her lips.  Cradling her head in the palm of his hand, he toys with her mouth.  Her fingers tighten in his hair.

            Slowly, a sound asserts itself over the boiling water on the stove.  Yokaze ignores it, concentrates on Trowa, on this kiss _he_ is giving _her._  But then he pulls back.  For a moment, their lips cling.  And then Yokaze hears it: the knocking on the door.

            "Goddammit," she mutters.

            Trowa smiles.  He caresses her lower lip with the pad of his thumb once before stepping away and heading for the door.  With a deep breath, she runs a hand through her hair, marvels at their chemistry—at their _intense and highly volatile_ chemistry—then follows.

            "Heero," she says, turning the corner.  "What's up?"

            "Duo just got a call from Bisho," he replies, his gaze moving from Trowa to Yokaze then back again.  "She and Quatre are going to be visiting this weekend."

            "Great," Yokaze says.  "You and Duo staying over?"

            Heero shakes his head.  "No.  We're heading back to the garage now."

            "Well, I'll stop by tomorrow and give you a hand."  Yokaze knows that visiting her today has cost Duo and Heero precious time that Maxwell Mechanics cannot afford to lose.  With an extra person they have a prayer of making up the lost time.

            "You don't have to—"

            "I want to.  So quell it."  She walks over and gives him a hug.  "Thanks for being here today, bro."

            "My pleasure.  I'll see you tomorrow."

            "Undoubtably."

            She waves and smiles as Heero strides away and Trowa closes the door.  For a long, breathless moment they simply stare at each other.  Then Yokaze smiles.  Trowa grins.  They laugh.

            "My timing really sucks," Yokaze says, gasping for air.

            "You're jinxed," Trowa replies, holding out a hand.

            Yokaze takes it and grins as Trowa spins her around once before pulling her close.  At that moment when they are face to face, mouth to mouth, Yokaze's stomach grumbles.  With a little smile, he suggests, "Shall we make dinner now?"

            "Yeah," she replies, grinning.  "Good idea."

**.**

**~End of Chapter 2~**


	4. Chapter 3: Something to Celebrate

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 3: Something to Celebrate**

**.**

            **"Ouch!**  Goddamn stupid piece of..."  Duo sighs.  Rubbing his skinned knuckles, he glances up at Heero.  "Heero, why is it that even though both of us are working on the same engine, I'm the only one cursing at it?"

            Heero's mouth twitches.  "Just lucky, I guess."

            "Hn.  I'll show you luck..." Duo grumbles, bending back down to the engine block.

            Heero turns to select a different sized attachment for his socket wrench, but hesitates before actually getting back to work.  His gaze follows Duo's tense movements and he wonders what is on the other man's mind.  For the past few days he hasn't been as focused as he usually is.  Had something happened the day Yokaze came home?  Or is Duo just thinking about Bisho?  Heero watches the morning colony light catch the oil and dust streaks in Duo's hair before turning back to the engine block himself.

            A second clang and scrape of skin against metal precedes a second wave of choice swearing from Duo.  Heero looks up from his task.

            "Duo..."

            The other man stops glaring at the engine and looks up.  "Yeah?"

            "What's distracting you?"

            "What makes you think I'm distracted?"

            Heero levels a long, hard stare on him.

            "Okay, okay.  So I've been distracted.  It's just..."  Duo hesitates.  Dare he mention what Taki had said a few days ago?  "It's just..."  No, he hadn't better.  _C'mon, Maxwell, think of something else.  Think.  Think_...  "I'm a little nervous about Bisho."

            "What do you mean?"

            Duo sighs and wipes the back of his hand across his forehead.  "Well...  She's growing up and moving on and somehow I feel like she's not... like she and I can't relate anymore.  I mean, what are we going to talk about?  Fixing air conditioning units and spaceport trucks?"

            "What's wrong with that?"

            "Well, nothing.  Everything.  Didn't you see her last Christmas?  She has more in common with Quatre than with me."  He sighs yet again.  "At least it seems that way."

            "You're worried about losing her."

            Duo stares at Heero, stunned by his friend's astute observation.  "Yeah.  Funny how that works.  I didn't even want a sister when Yokaze found her.  And now I start to panic when I think about her growing away from me.  Is that messed up, or what?"

            "I worry about Yokaze," Heero quietly admits.

            "Yeah?"

            Silently, Heero wonders why he'd just said that.  Had it been for the sole purpose of trying to bring some relief to the anxiety he senses in Duo's tense body language?  "Yeah.  I think she's..."  Heero swallows and stares down at the engine block.  Why is this so hard to say?  "She and Trowa..."

            "No!  Seriously?"  Duo's eyes had widened.  He leans closer to Heero, both hands splayed on the engine block.

            Heero nods once, not trusting himself to speak.

            "Aw, man.  I'm sorry.  Look, she's always going to be your sister, you know?  You've got to focus on that."  And Duo thought _he_ had problems.  Now he sees things could be so much worse.  At least he doesn't have to worry about beating up prospective suitors.

            Heero nods again and forces himself to breathe.  This is the first time he has voiced his suspicions aloud.  "I've... suspected it for a long time... Yokaze and Trowa..."

            "So that's why you keep offering her that spare bedroom we have?"

            Mute, Heero nods.

            "Just to get her out of Trowa's place when she's home?"

            Nod.

            "But, now... something's changed?"

            Heero takes a deep breath.  "I thought that Trowa cared for her, but I never thought he'd actually... _tell her._"

            "What makes you think _he_ told _her?_"

            Heero swallows.  Duo has a point.  How long had he known about his sister's feelings for Trowa?  How long has he felt like he's been competing with Trowa for his sister's attention and affection?

            "Hey, boys.  What's shakin'?"

            Both men turn as Yokaze crosses the threshold.  She heads for Heero, pulling out a clean rag from her overalls' pocket.  She gives Heero a hug, wipes a clean spot on his cheek, and kisses him.  "Hey, Duo," she says, turning.  "What do we have here?"

            Every day thus far since her return, Yokaze has spent her mornings helping Duo and Heero at the garage.  Her presence has been a godsend.  Not only is Heero more relaxed when she's here (no doubt because she can't be here and with Trowa at the same time) but they are back on schedule now that several old, stubborn projects are out of the way due to a third pair of hands.

            Duo grins and explains the project while Yokaze inspects the engine.  On more than one occasion she'd discovered something—a bolt or a part—that, once removed, would make their task much easier.

            "Alright," she says as Duo wraps up his instructional speech.  "I'll grab another socket wrench and start on this end."

            The morning melts away as the three of them disassemble the engine block.  "Hey, Yokaze," Duo says several hours later, "you staying for lunch again?"

            "Yeah.  Is that alright?"

            "Sure.  It's Heero's turn to make lunch, anyway."

            Heero glares at the air filter casing he's attempting to wrestle free from a jumble of hoses.

            "You know, domestic skills are very important, Heero," she says, spying his new wave of disgruntlement.

            "Grrr."

            "That's what I'm always saying to Heero," Duo agrees, hiding a smile.  "But maybe he'll listen to you.  Everything I say goes in one ear and out the other."

            "Maybe you should find him an apron.  Something with cute animals and lace on it."

            Duo sighs.  "I've already tried that.  But nothing seems to work.  I honestly don't know what I'm going to do about your brother..."

            After a good ten more minutes of ripping on Heero, he decides to start lunch early and stalks off to the house.  Yokaze and Duo share a grin.

            "I wasn't sure how much more I could take," she confides.  "I'm absolutely famished."

            Duo chuckles and starts to clean up his tools.  He watches Yokaze do the same and wonders if he dares mention what's on his mind to her.  Yes, he decides, Yokaze is safe; she will keep his secret.

            "Hey, ah, I was wondering if I, ah..."

            "Yeah?" she says, looking up.

            "Taki said something to me the other day..."

            "Oh, no."

            "Oh, yeah."  Duo sighs.  "Do you... do you think Heero stays here because I'm here?"

            Yokaze blinks.  "Sure.  You're his best friend.  Possibly his _only_ friend, Duo.  He doesn't show it very well, but he cares about you and..."  She shrugs.  "And after being alone for so long, he needs companionship."

            "Oh.  Um, can I, can I ask you something a little weird?"

            "Shoot."

            "Did you ever think that Heero and I might... might get... get together?" he whispers.

            "Honestly, Duo?" she whispers back.

            "Honestly."

            "I'm surprised you haven't already.  Either being with another man doesn't float your boats, or you two have been doing some pretty serious avoidance tactics for the past _five years._  I mean, you are attracted to him, aren't you?"

            Duo stares at her.  "How... how did you...?"

            "It's the way you look at him when he's not looking at you.  You think he's pretty damn special, right?"

            Duo bites his lip and pushes his bangs out of his eyes.

            "And I think you should know that my priority here is to see both of you happy.  So, maybe you get together and maybe you don't.  I don't really care one way or the other.  I just want you to be happy, Duo.  Don't stress about it.  But if it's bothering you, and I think it is, why don't you ask Heero how he feels about it?  Maybe he's never let himself consider it before.  Maybe you've got to bring it up so he can think about it."  She shrugs.  "That's the best I can do for advice," she tells him.

            "No.  Thanks.  It's good advice, Yokaze.  I think I'd convinced myself I didn't really think about Heero in... _that_ way.  But now, since Taki said something..."

            "Taki is out looking to make some romance," Yokaze says.  "It's one of her few faults."

            Duo laughs.

            "Just be honest," she continues.  "And everything will work out."

            He nods.  "Well, I wonder if Heero's finished butchering our lunch."

            "I hope so.  I don't fancy trying to catch it before I eat it."

**.**

            **Trowa looks up** from the book he's reading in bed as Yokaze enters the room.  Unceremoniously, she plops down next to him and arranges herself comfortably.  Trowa automatically opens his arm so she can put her head on his bare shoulder.

            "Did you have fun today?" he says against her hair.

            "I sure did."

            "Surrounded by ten and eleven-year-olds playing out-of-tune?"

            "It was a blast."

            "Literally."

            She chuckles.  "I was impressed.  They're working really hard for the concert.  Shall I visit again on Friday to help with their solos?"

            "If you like."

            "I like."  She smiles as his fingers begin to comb absently through her hair.  "I like that you play with my hair, too."

            "Yeah?"

            "Oh, yeah."

            Trowa smiles.  "You want to come by and help out with the self defense class tomorrow?"

            "Sure.  Shall we ask Wufei, too?"

            "Can't hurt."

            She grins, thinking of Wufei surrounded by adorable children.  If they have the effect on him she's hoping for, Taki will be facing a determined Wufei regarding the "child issue" this week.  That should be enough of a payback for her devious Duo and Heero romance plotting.  The wench.

            "Whatcha got there?" she asks, nodding to his book.

            "'For Whom the Bell Tolls.'"

            "Do you mind reading out loud for a bit?"

            Trowa smiles, plays with her hair for a moment, then resumes his reading.  Yokaze closes her eyes, listening to his low, mellow voice.  One-handed, Trowa turns the page and is half-way down it when he notices Yokaze's slow, measured breaths.  She is asleep.  He reaches across her and places his book on the night stand.  His fingers brush the lamp chain, but he hesitates.  Instead of turning off the light, he examines the shadows it creates on Yokaze's face.  Very softly, he leans closer, touching his lips to her temple, to the corner of her eye, to the edge of her mouth.

            "Good night," he tells her before reaching over and turning off the light.

**.**

            **The remaining** weekdays fly past.  Yokaze keeps to her schedule: the garage until lunch and then back to the academy for a lesson or two in the afternoon: Chorus with George, Self Defense with Trowa and Wufei, Band with Trowa and George, Gymnastics with Kathy and Trowa.  She loves them all.  And the children are always a breath of fresh air.  She'd even heard one of them refer to Trowa as "The Unibang" behind his back.  Many a smile Yokaze has gleaned from that memory.

            Wufei and Taki seem to be having an ongoing argument about—as Yokaze had predicted—having children.  Yokaze has always respected Taki's insistence that children and motherhood is not for her.  But it is a choice that Yokaze has been denied.  She stares down into her coffee and wonders what Trowa and Heero would say if they knew the truth.  If they knew about all that the organization had stolen from Yokaze.  She shakes her head.  It is better to not mention it.  Better not to stoke the hatred.

            "What is it?"

            She glances up as Trowa slides into the seat next to hers, a fresh coffee in hand.  "Hm?  Oh, I was wondering when Quatre and Bisho are going to get here."

            Trowa smiles at her over his mug.  "No you weren't."  Under the table, he finds her hand and gives it a small squeeze.

            Yokaze smiles back, liking that Trowa doesn't mind if she keeps her secrets.  At least for now.

            Taki noisily plops down into the chair opposite Yokaze and huffs.  "Can you believe that guy?" she grits out, blind to the affection between her old friend and Trowa.

            Yokaze glances up in time to see Wufei disappear into the kitchen.  "What?" Yokaze asks, trying to look innocent and a little concerned.

            "He wants kids.  I _told_ him _years ago_ that he'd have no luck with me."  She turns in her seat and glares at Trowa.  "This is all your fault.  It's all those self defense munchkins that've got him thinking about it."

            Yokaze clears her throat, desperately attempting to keep a satisfied grin at bay.  "Actually, it was my idea to invite him along."

            Taki snorts.  "I should have known."

            "Yes, you should have.  Especially after that little matchmaking stunt you tried to pull on Duo."

            "I've only got his best interests in mind."

            Yokaze laughs.  "You're lethal."

            "Ah, finally someone else sees it."  Wufei had rejoined them.  He sends a wry look in Taki's direction before sipping his oolong tea.

            "Have I no friends?" Taki laments.

            "Don't look at it like that," Yokaze replies.

            "And just how should I look at it?"

            "Well, with friends like yours-"

            "Who needs enemies," Wufei and Trowa chorus with Yokaze.

            Taki groans.

            "Nice to see you, too, Taki."

            "Oh," Taki says, opening her eyes.  "Sorry, Quatre.  I didn't see you.  Honestly."  She motions to the others.  "They've been making fun of me.  You'll make them stop, won't you?"

            "What's she done now?" Quatre replies with a grin.

            "Oh, I see how it is," she grouches.  "Guilty until proven innocent."

            Wufei leans closer and says in and undertone, "Only in your case, love."  

            With a huff, she flounces off in search of some serious chocolate.

            Wufei returns Quatre's grin.  "How are you, Quatre?"

            "Have a seat," Yokaze says.

            Quatre sits.  "Thank you, Yokaze.  You know, I'm really happy to see the two of you together."

            Yokaze and Trowa grin.

            Across the table, Wufei pauses in mid-sip, "What did you say?"

            Quatre gestures to Trowa and Yokaze.  "I said it's nice to see they've finally gotten together.  It's been frustrating as hell with you two sniffing at each other through a fence for the last five years."

            "_You're frustrated?_" Yokaze says.

            "When did _this_ happen?" Wufei muses.  "And how did Taki _miss it?_"

            "Just don't say anything to Heero, alright Quatre?  Although, I think he already knows.  Brotherly intuition or something," Yokaze tells him.

            "Or something," Trowa mumbles behind his coffee mug.  Yokaze catches his gaze and, wearing identical secret smiles, they both remember the night Heero had interrupted them.

            Quatre promises, "Mum's the word."

            "And you—"  Yokaze points to Wufei.  "—better not tell _her._"  She nods toward the kitchen door.  "I want her to figure this out for herself."

            Grinning, he replies, "No problem."  Then Wufei looks up at Trowa.  "Just don't get yourself shot."

            Yokaze rolls her eyes.  "Heero'd _never_..."

            "Never... what?"

            Yokaze turns in her seat.  "Heero.  Hey."  She forces an innocent expression.  "You came over."

            "Never... what?" he insists. 

            "Never pull a gun on your only sister," she improvises.

            "And why would I do that?"

            She grins.  "If I said you were the cutest little brother in the whole colony."

            A tiny grin twitches at his mouth.  "Stop that.  You're embarrassing me."

            "Care for a coffee Heero, Quatre?"

            "Thank you, Trowa," Quatre replies.

            Heero simply nods and takes Trowa's seat after he disappears into the kitchen.  Yokaze hides a grin at Heero's protective streak.  "I can't believe they let you off the colony, Quatre," she says.  "How long can we keep you?"

            Quatre grins.  "Oh, it took some serious arm-twisting, but I've got a whole week."

            "Hot damn!  Let's have some coffee to celebrate."

            "Celebrate?  Did I hear someone say 'celebrate'?"

            Duo and Bisho had arrived.

            "Down, boy," Heero replies, deadpan.

            "Hey, Bisho!" Yokaze says, standing up to give her a hug.  "Tell me about your internship."

            "It's for Aerospace Engineering students.  And it turns out I won't be there alone.  Quatre's sister, Althea, has just accepted a research job there."

            "Really?"

            "Yeah," Quatre says.  "Genetic engineering.  Sounds like she'll be researching genetic therapy methods.  You know, to rid the world of inherited diseases."

            "Intense."

            "Yeah," says Duo.  "This new colony sounds like quite the hot spot."

            Trowa reappears with four more cups of coffee.  He takes a seat near Quatre and sips at his own mug.  "There have been a lot of interesting things going around about that privately owned colony.  Some of the students were talking about it.  Apparently, they will pay for orphans from other colonies to come and live there.  Housing and everything included."

            "That sounds a little too good to be true," Duo muses.

            Trowa sends him a wry smile as if to say: _It does, doesn't it?_

            "Why would they want orphans in particular?" Yokaze muses.  "Unless it has something to do with your sister's work?"  She turns to Quatre who shrugs.

            She looks over her shoulder at Heero.  His expression is as suspicious and closed as her own.  Something passes between them in that moment, some hidden message.  In that moment, Trowa can see the old Yokaze—the soldier—seated at the table.

            "So, Bisho flies out the day after tomorrow," Duo says with an eye on Heero and Yokaze.  "It looks like we've got a party to plan."

            "We'll leave you in charge of it, Duo," Heero says, his mind on other things.

            "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Wufei replies.

            Duo, meanwhile, looks victorious.

            "What's the worst that could happen?" Yokaze responds with a shrug.

            Duo chuckles.

            All at the table stare in his direction with no small amount of apprehension.

**.**

            **Taki grumbles incoherently** as she sketches feverishly in her diary.  Most of the images include medieval instruments of torture and interrogation.  She sips on her chocolate fudge milk shake and contemplates her drawings, wondering which would be most effective for Yokaze's payback.          

            Behind her, the kitchen door bangs open and Duo dances in.

            Turning in her seat, Taki scowls.  "Why the hell are you so damn happy?" she demands.

            Duo grins before pulling open the fridge door and selecting a plum.  "Everyone has decided to leave me in charge of the party plans."

            "Party?  What party?"

            "The Quatre-finally-got-a-week-of-vacation-time and Bisho-got-her-first-internship party," he informs her.

            Taki taps her sketchbook and thinks.  "Will there be games at this party?"

            "Oh, yeah."

            "Games meant to humiliate and mortify?"

            "Without a doubt."

           She turns back to her book and folds the page over.  Slowly a grin forms on Taki's face as she begins to make notes.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 3~**


	5. Chapter 4: No Inhibitions

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 4: No Inhibitions**

**.**

            **The party.******

            It had materialized after George's gourmet dinner in the form of Duo showing up with a deck of cards, an empty coke bottle, and a few choice bottles of mind altering substances.  Kathy had protested: _This is a school, Duo.  No drinking allowed._  She had been overruled.

            The clock in the hall chimes ten o'clock at night, but it can't be heard over the shrieks of laughter as George circumnavigates the room pretending to be a chicken.

            "You should have picked 'Truth,'" Kathy tells him, her eyes watering.

            "Okay!" Duo shouts over the commotion.  "Next hand!"  As everyone winds down, Duo deals out the cards.  Five cards to each person and the game resumes.  The instructions are simple.  The person with the winning hand gets to spin the bottle.  The person the bottle points to can choose between "Truth" or "Dare."  If the bottle stops on the spinner, then he or she can choose whoever they want.  Everyone with a losing hand has to take a drink of their chosen alcoholic beverage.

            This time, it's Bisho (drinking non-alcoholic sparkling peach juice) who wins with a pair of queens.  She spins the bottle.  It comes to rest pointing to... Heero.  Bisho grins, her sugar high dispensing with any inhibitions.

            "Truth or Dare, Heero?"

            Heero eyes George, now seated next to Kathy, and mutters, "Truth."

            Bisho tosses her long, wavy hair over her shoulder and clears her throat.  "Who is your dream date?"

            Every pair of eyes in the room turns to Heero.  He swallows once, glances at Duo as if to accuse him for his sister's audacity, then faces the audience and growls, "Yokaze."

            This confession is followed by a chorus of "Aww-ww!"

            Slightly pink in the cheeks, Heero tosses his cards back at Duo and fiddles with his glass of whiskey.

            "Comin' atcha!" Duo announces, tossing out the shuffled cards.

            This time, by some act of God, Taki comes away with a full house.  Everyone groans as she proclaims this.  Overflowing with glee, she spins the bottle and it stops on... Yokaze.

            "Oh, shit."

            Taki raises her hands to the ceiling.  "Thank you, God!"

            Yokaze rolls her eyes and takes a swig of her kahlua and milk.

            "Truth or Dare?" she asks sweetly.

            "Dare."

            In all honesty, Taki had been hoping her friend would choose "Truth."  She'd already planned all sorts of embarrassing questions: _What do you feel for Trowa?_ Or maybe: _What's your steamiest fantasy?_  But she can work with this.  "Okay."  She rubs her hands together.  "Yokaze, I dare you to pretend to do the horizontal hokey pokey with... Quatre."  Taki silently congratulates herself on her ingenuity.  She'll get Yokaze for inviting Wufei to the self defense class, get Quatre for his "What has she done now?" crack, _and_ get to watch Trowa for signs of jealousy.

            Yokaze stares at her for a moment.  "You mean..."

            Taki nods.  "Do the humpty-hump, do the bumpty-bump...  Yeah, _that._"

            Frowning, Yokaze protests, "Look, I know why you're doing this to me, but Quatre's innocent."

            "No such animal," Taki assures her.

            "Well, what did he do?"

            Taki quotes Quatre's earlier inquiry, "'What's she done now?'"

            Yokaze and Quatre exchange a long look.  With a sigh and a shrug, Yokaze maneuvers around Trowa and climbs onto Quatre's lap, settling her arms around his neck.  "Okay, Quatre, I—"  Suddenly, she pauses and her gaze flicks downward.  "Oh, _Quatre_," she says with a meaningful smile.

            Quatre turns a brilliant shade of pink.  Heero looks positively murderous.  A muscle along Trowa's jaw ticks.  Everyone else laughs.  Taki watches Trowa's reaction silently congratulating herself on her resourcefulness.  One way or the other she's going to get the truth out of those two.

            Yokaze leans forward and whispers in Quatre's ear.  His shoulders shake with laughter and he whispers back.

            "_Oh, Quatre!_"  Yokaze grins broadly and glances over her shoulder.  "Somebody, give us a one, two, three."

            The room echoes with the shouts of everyone except Heero and Trowa.  "One!  Two!  _Three!_"

            Quatre wraps his arms around Yokaze's neck.  Yokaze gazes soulfully into his blue, blue eyes.  "Kathy," she croons in a false baritone.

            "Oh, George," Quatre squeaks out in an unnatural falsetto.

            Nearly everyone in the room bursts into uncontrollable laughter as Yokaze and Quatre roll around on the floor, pretending to be George and Kathy.  Even Heero smiles.  Trowa relaxes.  Taki, however, is severely peeved that Yokaze had found a loop hole and avoided her payback.  She tosses her cards back to Duo for reshuffling and glares at the offending couple.

            "That was good, you guys," Duo says chuckling.

            "Thanks," says Yokaze as she resumes her seat between Trowa and Heero.  "But it was Quatre's idea to reverse the roles."

            "Ingenious, man," Duo congratulates the still pink Quatre.

            The next hand goes to Duo, who grins broadly and reaches for the coke bottle.  And the victim is... Wufei.  Duo laughs with triumph.  "Yes!  Wu-man, Truth or Dare?"

            With as much dignity as he can muster after half a bottle of _sake_, Wufei says, "Truth, Maxwell."

            Duo's grin turns wicked.  "Have you ever modeled for Taki wearing only a pink, fuzzy bathrobe?"

            For a moment, Wufei stares at Duo, mouth agape.  "What?  Of course not!"

            Duo arches a single brow.  "Really?  Are you sure you don't want to change your answer?"

            Wufei growls at him, fists clenched in response.

            "Very well," Duo sighs, reaches behind him and pulls out a small sketchbook.  He flips idly through the pages until coming to rest on the image of his choice.  "I, however, beg to differ.  Check this out, you guys."  Duo turns the book so that Bisho and Kathy can take a peek.

            "He's bluffing," Wufei grouches, reaching for his glass.

            "Uh, Wufei..."  Taki is eyeing the unfortunately familiar sketchbook with trepidation.

            "What?"

            Taki gulps.

            Wufei's black eyes move from her guilty, anxious face to Duo's evil grin and back again.  "You told me you destroyed _all_ of those drawings!" he rages.

            "Um..." Taki squeaks, twisting her hands in her lap.

            "MAXWELL!!"  Wufei jumps to his feet and grabs the nearest weapon at hand: one of Yokaze's precious katanas.  With a threatening growl, he pounces on Duo.

            Duo reacts swiftly, scrambling to his feet and sprinting around the room.  Wufei unsheathes the blade and follows.  The spectators in the middle of the room watch with interest, sipping their beverages.  

            Taki can't resist a sigh of relief; for a moment, she'd feared Wufei would be coming after _her_ with a samurai sword.  As this primary worry is dispensed with, she is able to focus on the infuriating fact that Duo had managed to steal something from _her_, one of the best in her old profession.  Taki glares at Duo and wonders how he'd gotten past her.

            Putting down her wine cooler, Kathy tactfully points out, "You know, you shouldn't run with a katana; you might poke someone's eyeball out."

            A ferocious grin pulls at Wufei's mouth.  "Oh, it's not an _eye_ball I'm aiming for..."

            Duo yelps.  "Okay, man.  Take it easy.  I'll give you the book, just leave all my equipment where it is."

            Wufei says silkily, "Are you sure, Maxwell?  Because it's no trouble—"

            "I like everything where it is right now, thanks," Duo manages in a screechy falsetto.

            "Very well.  The book, Maxwell."

            Duo tosses the book to Wufei, who immediately attacks it, neatly shredding it.

            "Hey—!" Taki protests an instant before she remembers she has a library of digital back-up copies.

            The spectators in the center of the room clap with appreciation for the show.  A few are more enthusiastic than others owing to the amazing and daring feats of death-defying proportions accomplished by Duo: stealing something from Taki _and_ embarrassing Wufei.  _At the same time._

            "Great job, Duo," George says, too drunk to fear retaliation.

            Bisho sighs.  "It's too bad the rest of you didn't get a chance to see that drawing.  Wufei looked so _adorable._"

            Wufei glares about the room as several people snicker behind their drinks.

            "Maybe Taki can draw another one," Kathy suggests.

            "Over my dead body," Wufei grinds out.

            However, the sly smile on Taki's face indicates that can be arranged.

**.**

            **Soon after** Duo and Wufei's... altercation, the party begins to wind down.  Giggling about how... inspiring Yokaze and Quatre's performance had been, George and Kathy retire to their apartment.  Bisho pleads exhaustion; her sugar-high is in a downward spiral now.  And Duo finishes the last of the rum.

            "That's it," he announces, his words slightly slurred, "party's over."

            "Thank God," Taki growls.  "I don't think my liver can take much more of this abuse."  She refers to the alcohol.

            Duo points at her accusingly.  "If you can't stand the partying, then stay out of the party room," he advises.

            "Very wise, Duo," Yokaze says.

            "Thank you, Yokaze," he replies.  He attempts to get to his feet but somehow ends up sprawled out on the carpet.

            "Duo?"  Quatre frowns down at him, concerned.  "I think you had a little too much to drink."

            "Nah."  Duo closes his eyes and grins.  "I am one with the universe...  Omm..."

            Yokaze glances in her brother's direction.  "Taxi?"

            He nods.  "Please."

            From the floor:  "The world is a crystal*..."

            Bisho looks worried.  "Um, Duo?"

            "Ye-es, fair maiden?"

            "Er, are you alright?"

            "Alright?!  Hey, Heero, check this out."  Duo is moving his arms and legs on the floor.  "Carpet Angels!"

            Heero looks over his shoulder at Yokaze who is on the phone.  "Is there an ETA on that taxi?"

            Duo sings from the floor: "ETA... DEA... DUI... la lala la..."

            Bisho and Quatre exchange looks over Maxwell's prone form.

            "Ten minutes," Yokaze says as she puts down the phone.

            "Do you need help carrying Maxwell downstairs?" Wufei offers.

            Heero shakes his head.  "No.  I'll be alright."  He takes a breath and squats down next to Duo.  Suspecting it's going to take at least ten minutes to move Duo while he's in this state, Heero says, "Come on, Duo."

            "Where are we going?  Someplace romantic, I hope."

            "Home."

            "Not very creative, are you Heero?"

            "Hn.  Give me your arm."

            "_Heero_...  Not my _arm._  There isn't a single, solitary erogenous cell in my _arm._"

            Yokaze coughs to cover up a bark of laughter.  Heero turns and glares at her.  She blinks innocently.

            "Well...?" he growls.

            She hides a smile.  She knows this look: _Are you going to get your butt over here and help me out or get your butt over here and help me out?_  Yokaze approaches Duo and gently points out, "Well, Duo, Heero's got to start somewhere."

            Duo appears to consider this while Heero continues to glare at Yokaze for encouraging Duo's silliness.  "Right, then," Duo finally says, extending an arm.  Grimly, Heero loops Duo's arm around his neck and stands.  

            With the show apparently over, Taki and Wufei head upstairs.  Trowa, meanwhile, has nearly finished clearing away the bottles, glasses, and cards from the room.  Yokaze decides to give him a hand with the rest of the incriminating evidence.  After watching Heero and her brother disappear out the door, Bisho turns to Quatre and fidgets.

            "Are you staying here?" she asks.

            He nods.  "Yes.  You're going home with Duo and Heero?"

            "Yeah.  Look, Quatre, I'm going to be pretty busy packing and everything.  I don't know if I'm going to get the chance to see you again before I go..."

            "Sure you will," he says, sounding shocked.  "I'll be coming to the spaceport with everyone else to see you off."

            "Well, I probably won't get another chance to thank you without an audience."

            "Thank me?  For what?"

            She grins.  "For being you, Quatre.  For being there for me.  For being wonderful."  And with that, she wraps her arms around his neck and brushes his cheek with her lips.  Pulling away just far enough to look into his blue, blue eyes, she whispers, "Thank you."

            Quatre swallows and forces a carefree smile.  "You're welcome, Bisho."  He gently untangles himself from her, forcing his embarrassment aside.  "Good luck with your internship.  Let us know how you're doing."

            "Sure...  Quatre, I—"

            "Hey, Bisho!" Yokaze calls from the kitchen where she's helping Trowa with the dishes.  "Taxi's just pulled up!"

            Bisho sighs.  "Well, I gotta go.  I'll see you later."

            Quatre nods and watches her walk out the door, both wondering and fearing what she'd been about to say.

**.**

            **Heero barely listens** to Duo's ranting in the cab.  Which is just as well since Duo has switched to doing impressions of Heero to make Bisho laugh.  Heero stares out the window at the familiar buildings and landmarks, now shadowed and dim.  He wonders what had brought on Duo's rant about having erogenous cells.  He decides it must be the alcohol.  Perhaps he'd been trying to embarrass Heero.

            They arrive at the garage shortly after one in the morning.  Bisho offers to help Heero with Duo, but Duo waves her off.

            "Heero and I are going to spend some quality time together," he tells her.

            With a lift of her brows and a glance at Heero, who nods as he pays the cab driver, Bisho steps out of the car.  As Heero helps Duo out of the cab, a pair of violet eyes study him.  

            "You know, you are one hot piece of ass, Heero Yuy," Duo says as the car pulls away.

            Heero turns and scowls at Duo who is smiling like an idiot.

            "I've always wanted to say that," he confesses.

            Not knowing what to think of this, Heero silently steers Duo toward the house.

            Duo inquires, "Where are we going?"

            "To put you to bed."

            "Yeah, baby!  You know Taki was saying something about us getting together."

            "What?"

            "That's what I said!  But then Yokaze was telling me that, well, it's obvious I think you're attractive."

            Again, Heero is speechless.

            "Did you know that I find you attractive?"

            "No."

            "Ah, so not so obvious after all...  Well, anyway, Yokaze was all like maybe being with another man doesn't float your boat.  What do you think, Heero?  Anything floatin' down there?"

            "Duo..." Heero says sternly, maneuvering him through the door and into the foyer.

            "Yokaze told me to ask you.  Well, no she told me Taki's looking to get us together.  Addicted to romance.  Yokaze said she wants us to be happy.  And she wants me to be honest and I honestly—"

            Heero growls, "You're too drunk to be honest right now, Duo."

            Holding up a finger, Duo differs, "Actually, I'm feeling very honest, thank you very much.  And I think if you're honest, you'd admit that the only reason you've stayed here for the last five years is to be close to me."

            "What?!"

            "Think about it, Heero," Duo says, not seeing Heero's shocked expression.  "We're friends.  You needed a place to stay, something to do, somewhere close to Yokaze.  But mostly, you needed to not feel alone anymore."  He opens his arms wide.  "And here I was."

            "You're drunk."  The words sound like a mantra.

            "So are you," Duo replies smartly as they come to a stop at the door to Duo's room.  Heero fiddles with the knob and kicks it open.  "Shh!" Duo hisses.  "You might wake up Bisho."

            Heero scowls, heading for Duo's bed.  "Here," he says, positioning Duo so that all he has to do is sit down on the bed... or fall backwards on it.  The latter is what he chooses to do... with both arms wound around Heero's neck and shoulders.  They land with a muffled thump! amidst the tangled bedclothes.  Stunned, Heero doesn't move.

            "Ah, at last.  We're in bed together."  Duo's smile flickers and he reaches for Heero's hand.  "Don't go.  Stay with me.  Please."

            Heero discovers he is entranced by the plea shimmering in Duo's eyes.  "I...  You're drunk, Duo."

            "So are you.  Us drunks should stick together.  C'mon, Heero.  Stay."  His gaze moves down to where Heero's mouth is hovering a mere inch above his own.  Duo wonders if perhaps another form of persuasion is needed...  Slowly, he lifts his head until their lips touch.

            Duo is kissing him.  Heero remains frozen, sprawled over his best friend.  Duo is kissing him.  He can feel the warmth of Duo's rum-scented breath against his cheek.  He can see the dreamy, seductive expression in his violet eyes.  Heero opens his mouth.  He can taste...  He pulls back suddenly, staring at Duo.

            Duo is unfazed by Heero's resistance.  "I've wanted to do that ever since...  You're going to think this is crazy...  Ever since I saw Yokaze wearing that sexy black leather outfit and I imagined it wasn't her body but _yours_ underneath all those laces and glitter."  His hand smoothes down Heero's back and finds the edge of his shirt.  He nuzzles Heero's neck and whispers.  "You will stay, won't you?  Stay."

            Heero swallows.  What is happening here?  Duo is... attracted to him?  Duo has wanted to kiss him for over _five years?_  "Duo, you're... drunk."

            "Thank God," he says.  "I'd never have the guts to seduce you sober."

            "Duo, just stop and _think—_"

            Duo shakes his head and presses a finger to Heero's lips.  "_Feel._"

            And before Heero can think of something else to say, Duo pulls his mouth down until he is able to nibble and taste and cajole.  His hand strokes patterns on Heero's back.  His hips move restlessly underneath Heero's weight.  After long, extremely frustrating moments, Heero finally opens his mouth once more and Duo kisses him hungrily.  His hand tightens around Heero's.  His mind empties of all thought and focuses on the feel and the taste of the one person he'd convinced himself he would never have.  He grins as he brushes his mouth lightly over Heero's.  He feels warm and relaxed and utterly at peace.  He exhales and lets himself float with the darkness that takes him away.

            Heero stares down at Duo.  He has passed out.  After a long, stunned moment, Heero gingerly arranges Duo into a more comfortable position on the bed and removes his shoes.  He sets the shoes down where Duo won't trip on them and makes his way toward the kitchen.  He picks up the coffee pot, but changes his mind.  Reluctantly, after discovering nothing that needs to be done, he sinks down into a chair.

            Slowly, his mind begins to catch up with him.

            What had just happened?

            Answer: Duo had kissed him, but...  And here's the real question: Why had Heero allowed him to?

            He stares blindly at the darkened window above the kitchen sink, elbows resting on the scarred tabletop, and tries to both avoid and discover the answer to that question.  He backtracks and wonders at Duo's drunken rambling.  Up until that second kiss, Heero had honestly thought Duo hadn't known what he was saying.  But now...  What if he did?  What if he'd meant what he said?  And what did that mean for their friendship?  Heero is too unsure of how he feels about these subjects to face them head-on.  His thoughts meander on to circle on an earlier point in the conversation.

            Had Duo been right?  Is it true that Heero stays here so he can be near Duo?

            He remains at the kitchen table, asking the questions he is afraid to answer.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 4~**

**.**

*** **From the novel "Jurassic Park" by Michael Crichton, uttered by a very out-of-it Ian Malcolm.


	6. Chapter 5: The Next Morning

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 5: The Next Morning**

**.**

            **Trowa wanders** out of the shower and nears the living room in time to hear Yokaze say: "Hey, lover-boy.  You missing me?"

            A strange male voice replies, "Every moment of every day, sex-kitten."

            Yokaze laughs.  Instantly, Trowa's every muscle tenses.  Who is this man?  And how dare he make her laugh like that.  Sultry, sexy.

            "Good, Luke, _very_ good," she responds.

            With a start, Trowa realizes she's speaking to one of her band members.  Lucas Goldfeld.  The percussionist.  The very _attractive_ percussionist.  It is no secret that the male NW band members are sex symbols of the music industry.

            "Well, I can't have you cutting your vacation short to fly out here to keep me company, not that I'd complain if you showed up in that black leather get-up of yours..."

             Trowa had heard enough.  Quietly, he disappears into the bedroom.  He stands with the door closed behind him for a moment before realizing he's staring at the bed.  The bed in which he'd spent a very sound night of sleeping next to Yokaze.  He suddenly observes how very close he had been to believing...  His hands shake with self-directed fury.  How very stupid of him.  How could he have thought for even a moment that someone as talented and extraordinary as Yokaze would want _him_.  A washed-up soldier teaching gymnastics with his sister at a school for the under-privileged and homeless children of the colony.

            The past week had been heaven.  Her affection and attention had slowly started to override the persistent question: _why me?_  And now she is talking to her "lover-boy" via interspace comm. in the other room.  The faded, soft denim jeans he'd slept in the night before twist in his white-knuckled grip.  He breathes deeply, trying to keep the pressure building in his chest from exploding, unaware of the continuing conversation in the room beyond him.

            Yokaze adopts a serious expression now that the pleasantries have been exchanged.

            "Uh-oh," says Luke, "I know that face."

            "Yes, you do."  It is her let's-get-down-to-serious-business face.  She's had to use it often on this particularly incorrigible band member.  "Luke, I need a favor."

            "Sure," the blond man on the screen says with a shrug.

            "No, Luke.  I mean I need a _favor_ favor."

            There is a pause.  "Alright.  What do you need?"

            "I need you to break into a main computer for me."

            "Okay."

            She continues, "The one on that new, privately-funded colony."

            He lifts a brow.  "Hell, _you_ could do that without any help from me and my network—"

            "It's got to look like an amateur job, Luke.  And I haven't got the time to screw around here."

            He gives her an admonishing look.  "Are you working during your vacation again?"

            "Luke..."

            "Consider it done.  Give me a few days."

            "Thanks.  I'm sending a list of objectives."  She types out the file name and selects the "transmit" option.

            Luke scans it from his location a few moments later.  He nods as he reaches the bottom.  "Right-o.  You'll be hearing from me."

            Yokaze turns off the computer and leans back in her chair, thinking, dreading, hating the possibility yet unable to ignore it.  With a sigh, she pushes herself out of the chair and heads for the garage, thinking that Trowa is spending an uncharacteristically long time in the bathroom.    

            **At the first** sound of life in the house, Heero automatically starts a pot of coffee.  About a half an hour later, a door along the hall opens and someone stumbles into the bathroom.  Heero is very conscious of the possibility that this person could be Duo.

            His hands tense around his own untouched mug of coffee.  And there will be the issue of "last night."  What should he say?  Should he wait for Duo to bring it up?  Ignore it completely?  During the long, sleepless night, Heero had not moved from his chair in the kitchen although he had steadfastly avoided any conclusions and too-revealing truths to the questions that had plagued him.  Still plague him.

            The clock on the wall ticks steadily along as Heero waits, undecided.  Finally, the being emerges from the bathroom and shuffles down the hall and into the kitchen.  Almost against his will, Heero looks up to confirm or deny his suspicions.

            Framed in the doorway, still wearing the clothes from the night before, is Duo.  Heero's gaze follows the play of the sunshine on his features, notices for the first time the way his eyes darken in the bright, yellow light.  And is it Heero's imagination or are Duo's lips fuller than they'd been before?  Or perhaps he simply had never paid attention until this morning?

            Duo flops down into his usual chair, head buried in his folded arms.  Heero studies the streaks of gold in the tangled braid.

            With a jolt, Heero's eyes narrow.  Enough of this.  He stands and splashes some coffee into a mug before placing it before Duo with a forceful _thwack!_  Duo starts and blinks up at Heero.

            The moment of truth.

            Heero tenses.

            "Thanks, man.  I have got the mother of hangovers."  He sniffs at his coffee and quells a wave of nausea.  "What, in the name of all things holy, did I drink last night?"

            Still waiting, Heero says quietly, dangerously, "Don't you remember?"

            Duo's headache prevents him from picking up on the fine tones in Heero's voice.  "Dude, the last thing I remember is George pretending to be a chicken."  He blows on the surface of his coffee.  "No, wait!"

            Heero doesn't so much as blink.

            "Didn't Yokaze and Quatre get it on?  That's a little fuzzy.  I might have hallucinated that."

            Watching Duo sip his coffee, a previously overlooked alternative occurs to Heero.

            "What's with the glare?" Duo asks, surprising him.  "Did I puke on your shoes or something last night?"

            _Last night_...  Heero clears his throat.  "Um, no..."

            "Well, what?  You look like you wish I was drinking rat poison instead of coffee..."  He glances down at the mug in his hands.  "It _is_ just coffee, right?"

            Heero nods tersely.

            Duo sighs with as much muster as his hangover allows.  "Look, if I gave you a wedgie, profoundly embarrassed you, or blabbed something said in confidence, I honestly apologize."

            Heero notices that "kissing" hadn't been included on that list.  Heero says nothing.

            Duo attempts to keep the conversation going.  It distracts him from his headache.  "So what happened after Quatre and Yokaze...  Did that happen, by the way?"

            Eyes still on his companion, Heero nods and tells him, "After that Wufei chased you around the room with a katana."

            "What!?  And I missed it?  Did anyone get a photo of that?  And if it _did_ happen, how the hell did I survive?"

            Against his will, the corner of Heero's mouth twitches.  "You had stolen one of Taki's sketchbooks."

            Duo gapes at him.  "No!  Are you serious?"

            "And proceeded to show half the room a drawing of Wufei in a pink, fuzzy bathrobe."

            Duo half laughs and half groans, cradling his head in his hands.  "Oh, God.  You're playing with me.  Stop taking advantage of my memory loss."

            Heero shrugs, unable to stop a small smile now.  "Ask someone else, then."

            "And after that Wufei chased me around?"

            "With a katana," Heero affirms.

            Duo leans back in his chair with a satisfied sigh.  "Wow."

            Appeased for the moment, silence returns to the room, inviting the questions and speculations to circle within Heero once again.  He finds himself staring at Duo's mouth and remembering the feel and taste...

            Lifting his coffee cup for a sip, Duo wiggles his eyebrows at Heero and, with a grin, says, "That was some party.  Better than sex or your money back, eh, Heero?"

            A surge of anger forces Heero to his feet.

            Duo watches as the other man practically throws his coffee mug into the sink.  "Heero?  You alright?"

            Heero nods once.  "Fine.  I'm getting to work."

            Duo moves as if to stand.  "I'll help."

            "You're hungover."

            "You say it like the curse it is," he observes dryly.  "C'mon, I won't drop a tire rim on your foot or anything."

            He receives no reply.  The kitchen door slams shut behind Heero and Duo stares after him for a long time, wondering what in the hell is up with him.

**.**

            **For some odd,** bizarre reason, Taki grins at the sight of Wufei groaning over the sink in the bathroom.  She resists the urge to take advantage of this situation by making some new sketches of his hangover, but only barely.  She has plenty to occupy her strangely energized mind this morning.  She'd awoken with an idea.  An idea that just might work to make one of her dearest creative dreams a reality.  But first she's going to have to pay Duo a visit at his garage.

            "How's it going there, Dragon Boy?" she says with a shoulder leaning against the open threshold.

            He gives her his best glare and growl, considering the circumstances.

            She grins back.  Taki continues watching him as he picks up his toothbrush and starts scrubbing away at the hangover taste in his mouth.  She wanders into the bathroom and starts playing with his hair.  He ignores her and scrubs harder.  Leaning over his muscled shoulder, she admits, "You're so cute when you're doing your dental hygiene routine.  You know why?"

            He glares at her in the mirror.

            She whispers in his ear, "With those squinty, black eyes and ring of white foam around your mouth you look just like a rabid squirrel."

            Wufei coughs on the toothpaste foam.

            "Well, I'm off.  Gotta see a man about some scrap metal."  She gives Wufei a sound smack on the ass before sweeping from the room and slinging her backpack over her shoulder.  Humming under her breath, she lets herself out of the apartment just in time to glimpse Yokaze's mass of sunglass-restrained hair before she disappears down the stairs.

            "Hey, Yo!"

            Yokaze pauses on the stairs so Taki can catch up to her.

            "You headed over to Duo's now?"

            "Yup."

            "Well, lead the way."

            Yokaze lifts a brow.

            Nearly bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, Taki explains, "Inspiration buzz."

            With a nod, Yokaze continues down the staircase.  A step behind her, Taki chatters on about her new version on an old idea.  In fact, Taki has so much to say about this particular project that she barely takes a breath between the academy and Duo's garage.  By the time Yokaze has the familiar structures in her sights, she's so glad she could cry.  Soon, she'll be working on some oily piece of machinery in blessed silence.  Of course, she's counting on Duo being indisposed, but in all honesty, he'd drank enough to fell a small mammoth the night before.  No way could he be operating at this hour.  With luck, it'll be just her and Heero.  She smiles.

            Yokaze waves farewell to her friend as they part: Taki heads for the house and Yokaze turns toward the garage.  She opens the door and, as she'd expected, Heero is the only other living creature on the premises.  The familiar, muffled sounds of engine repair greet her ears as she approaches Heero from behind.  She wipes her hands on the backseat of her overalls before slipping them over Heero's eyes.

            His reaction is instantaneous and unexpected.  There is the sound of flesh scraping against metal as he jerks to attention and drops the wrench with a clatter.  He turns sharply, dislodging the slim, strong hands from his face and discovers Yokaze.  He releases the breath he'd been holding.

            "A little tense this morning?" Yokaze guesses with a look.

            Heero glares at her.  "You surprised me."

            "A first if there ever was one."

            He turns back to the engine, retrieving his wrench from the cement floor.

            "Hungover?" she guesses, peering into the contraption Heero is working on.

            He ignores her.

            "Well, you're certainly not acting like you got any last night," she says offhandedly.

            Heero's hand slips and he bangs his knuckles against the metal a second time.  He glares at her.  "Do.  You.  Mind?" he inquires through gritted teeth.

            She shrugs and leans down into the engine.  After a moment, she starts humming.  It takes a full minute before Heero puts a name to the tune: I'm Too Sexy.

            With a loud _clang!_ he sets the wrench down and stares at her profile.  "Yokaze," he says.

            She looks up, inquiring.

            For a long moment, he simply looks at her, the question is so close and yet he is afraid of the answer.  Finally, he growls, "I know about you and Trowa."

            "What about Trowa and I?"

            "How you... feel for each other."

            "I thought you might."

            His hands flex on a dusty hose.  It amazes him how she seems so incredibly unconcerned.  He continues to glare, attempting to articulate the tension and unease he is dealing with so unsuccessfully.  "I don't like it," he manages at last.

            Her expression softens.  "I know."

            Finally, his gaze slides away from hers.  He stares at a fixed, arbitrary point on the grungy wall and growls, "I want you to move in with Duo and I."

            Silently, Yokaze sidles up next to him and, wraps her arms around his waist.  She waits until he returns her gaze before informing him, "You—and only _you_—are my brother, Heero.  I haven't forgotten that.  And I'm not going to.  There's no replacement for what you and I have."

            He looks into her cobalt eyes—eyes so like his own—and begins to feel a fraction of his tension disintegrate.  He wonders how she can see through to the very core of his problem and untangle the knot of emotion surrounding it so easily.  He offers up an awkward smile.  "You always know what to say."

            "Well, I _am_ your older sister.  I've got age, wisdom, and experience on my side over here."

            "Then you should know that moving in with Duo and I—"

            "Would be a big mistake," she interjects.

            "Why?"

            She considers him for a moment.  "What would you say if I kept asking you to move in with Trowa and I?" she replies with a raised brow.

            Heero opens his mouth to answer, then closes it again.  He knows that he would refuse the offer.  He would feel like an intruder in the dynamic between his sister and Trowa.  A third wheel.  As it is, he practically lives in the garage when Bisho is visiting her brother in order to stay out of their way.  He grins ruefully.  "Point taken."

            "Hallelujah," she mutters.  "And it only took me five years to convince you."

            "That's got to be a record."

            She laughs.  As her humor fades, Yokaze considers him more seriously.  "How long have you been carrying this around?"

            He shrugs eloquently.

            Yokaze pokes him in the chest with her index finger.  "Not everything is classified information, Heero.  Stop acting like you're on one big fate-altering mission."

            He blinks.  "But I am.  Life."

            Yokaze takes a breath and casts about for a way to articulate her point.  She seizes his hand and interlaces their fingers.  "You see this?  You feel this, Heero?  This is us as the perfect soldier.  When you pull away, it's just me on this side and you on the other."

            He understands her conclusion: together they are more than just the sum of two people and he owes it to her to be honest.  Without honesty, they are only two people standing on the opposite shores of an ocean, little more than strangers.

            Heero squeezes her hand in response.  She leans forward and presses her cheek against his before allowing her forehead to come to rest on his shoulder.  She hugs him.  He, in turn, embraces her with equal strength.  He rests his chin on her shoulder and closes his eyes.  He knows when he opens his eyes all of the questions will be waiting for him, but for now he feels strong.  Heero holds onto his sister, holds on to this moment of security.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 5~**


	7. Chapter 6: Match

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 6: Match**

**.**

            **Yokaze pushes open** the gymnasium door at precisely four p.m.  It's time for the self defense class.  She notices with a glance that while attendance is high today, Wufei is conspicuously absent.  Apparently, his hangover is still giving him hell.  She looks over the heads of the students to Trowa.  He offers her a single, curt nod in greeting before getting the students started with their warm-up stretches.

            She watches him at the front of the class, carefully concealing a frown at his frigid manner.  A few of the students whisper a greeting to her and she waves back as she picks her way to the front where Trowa doesn't spare her so much as a glance.

            Trowa ignores her as best as he is able.  The truth is that it is too painful to look at her, yet he is drawn to her as if her soul calls out to his.  The muscles along his jaw clench as he feels her approach.  He wants to tell her what he'd heard this morning.  Wants her to deny any involvement with anyone else.  _Needs_ her to assure him that he is not a stand-in for the other men in her life.  He needs it so terribly that he nearly shakes with the effort to keep himself from saying anything.

            Breathing deeply, he tells himself that this need is precisely why he should say nothing.  He knows the words would come out sounding like a plea.  _Please tell me it all wasn't a lie.  Please tell me you want me, all of me.  Please lie to me if you must, only don't confirm my worst fears.  Please, Yokaze_...

            Somehow, Trowa manages through the lesson.  He touches Yokaze only for demonstration purposes.  Yet his gaze manages to find her as she wanders among the children correcting them and letting them practice their new defense move on her.  He watches her and feels something in his chest throb painfully.  Has she always been this beautiful?  Or is it that he only notices now because she is beyond his grasp?

            She can feel his gaze on her as she demonstrates the proper stance to a dark-haired girl.  She suppresses a shiver.  There is an arctic chill about him that she has never encountered before.  Yokaze is tempted to turn and meet his gaze, but not here, not now.  For now, her time and attention belong to the students.

            The hour and a half class crawls past.  And Yokaze waits to investigate Trowa's odd mood.  At five-thirty, the students begin to trickle out.  Some say good-bye to Trowa.  He forces a smile onto his face and notices how stiff his skin feels.  He remembers a time when a false smile would have been a simple matter.  Yokaze had changed that, however.

            She waves to the students and listens to the jabbering of two girls who linger in order to bask in her attention.  Trowa turns away, untying the long, cloth belt at his waist.  Out of the corner of her eye, she watches him shrug out of his white jacket, revealing the white tank top underneath.  After laying the belt and jacket on the mat, he takes a step toward the gym equipment not far away but pauses.  Unable to stop himself, he takes one last side-long look at her over his shoulder.  He can feel her attention on him and something hot, sharp, and painful passes between them.  With fisted hands, he strides toward the rings.

            The girls giggle a bit about one of the boys in the class before heading for the doors.  Yokaze watches them go and waits until the door has closed before she turns and looks squarely at Trowa.  She watches him as he leaps up and catches the suspended rings with his rosined hands.  Tension actually_ radiates_ from him.  She shakes her head.  What is it with men today?  First Heero and now Trowa.  She removes her own belt and jacket, preparing to wander over to the rings and stare at him until he can't stand it anymore when the door cracks open.  She turns and hides a grin as Taki peeks into the room.

            "Are they all gone?" she manages in a hoarse whisper, referring to the children.

            "You just missed them," Yokaze assures her.

            Taki enters the room on a relieved sigh.  "Ah.  Thank God."

            "How did your talk with Duo go?"

            "Good.  Pretty good.  He's going to get back to me when he unburies the stuff I want from that junkyard behind the garage."

            Yokaze nods.  "So, what's up?"

            Taki splays her hands in a gesture of innocence.  "What?  Can't I come by and say 'Hello' to a friend?"

            With narrowed eyes, Yokaze replies, "No."

            Taki looks offended.  "I haven't _always_ got ulterior motives, ya know."

            Yokaze's brows arc in disbelief.

            A motion in the gym draws Taki's gaze.  Referring to Trowa's workout on the rings she says, "Nice routine."

            Yokaze glances in the direction Taki indicates and catches Trowa posed in a perfect hold, his legs extended behind him parallel to the floor.

            "I didn't know that was... humanly possible," Taki says with appreciation, a sharp eye on Yokaze's expression.

            "Well, you learn something new every day," she intones, turning back around.

            Not so much as a glimmer of interest had flickered to life in those cobalt eyes.  Taki hides her frustration behind a grin.  "Well, I don't know about me, but Wufei surely does.  I've finally got him convinced about that male G-spot."

            "And how much horizontal hokey-pokey did that take?"

            Taki's grin is wide and suggestive.  "More than you're getting these days.  Are those NW boys still as hot as I remember?"

            "Oh, yeah," Yokaze says, thinking of the screaming fans they encounter at every spaceport.  "I'm working on a song called 'Sex Symbols' just for them."

            "They'll love that.  Especially that drummer of yours with the shag-ilicious blond hair...  Whatsis name."

            "Luke."

            "Ah, yes.  Finger-lickin' good Luke.  Speaking of...  Have you checked out Quatre?  I mean, _wow_.  When did that tall, broad shouldered thing happen?"

            Yokaze's mouth twitches.  "You should roll around on the floor with him before you say 'Wow.'"

            Taki grins and tries to judge (inconspicuously, of course) any possible reaction Trowa might have to their conversation.  "A good ride, was he?"

            "I enjoyed it."

            Taki laughs and notes Trowa's precise form wavers just a tad.  "By the looks of it, so did he."

            "Well, I haven't heard any complaints."

            "You know, Quatre was a spur-of-the-moment thing.  I should have dared you to get down with Trowa.  That would have been fun to watch.  There you'd be, sitting on Trowa's lap with your arms around his neck..."  Trowa's body jerks subtly, just enough to make him work to recover his handstand.  "Yeah, I should have picked Trowa for you."

            Noting Taki's gaze straying, Yokaze glances over her shoulder and stifles a sigh.  _No ulterior motives, my ass._  She studies Taki's conniving face and intones, "Well, there's always the next Bisho's-got-an-intership-and-Quatre's-on-vacation party."

            Taki opens her mouth to assure Yokaze that they needn't wait longer than this evening for another party when the gym door opens.

            Wufei stands on the threshold.  "Taki, there you are.  You've got a call from Duo."

            "Ooh!  Great!"  After a quick glance at Trowa, she gives Yokaze a fat grin.  "See ya."

            Once more, the gym door closes leaving Yokaze and Trowa alone together.  Slowly, she turns toward him just as he begins his dismount.  She approaches as he twists through the air and lands squarely on both feet.  Still ignoring her, he heads for the bin of rosin powder.  Yokaze stops between him and the rings and watches him immerse his hands in the rosin and then dust off the excess.  When he turns back to the rings, he discovers Yokaze's cobalt gaze.  He also discovers he can't look away.

            "Something on your mind?"

            For a long moment, Trowa can't speak.  _Something on his mind?_  He feels pinned to place by her soul-piercing stare.  Can't she read his mind with those eyes?  He forces the emotion down, down into the place he once used often as a soldier to hide his doubts and fears.  He arcs a brow at her and finally counters, "Is there?"

            Yokaze watches his familiar figure stride around her toward the rings.  _No,_ she amends, _that's not the man I know; that's the soldier._  In his tension, she reads the erasure of the past seven years.  She wonders where the man who kissed her awake this morning has gone.

            He looks up to the rings but pauses at the sound of the gym door.  He looks behind him just in time to see it settle back in its frame.  He exhales.  His shoulders slump.  Had he expected her to stay and attempt to ferret out the truth from him?  Had he expected her to linger and untangle his icy disposition?  He looks back up to the rings.  _Yes._  With a fortifying breath to distract from his disappointment, he crouches preparing to jump up and grasp the rings.  But instead of beginning a second routine, he stumbles a step forward as something smacks him squarely in the back of the head.

            He glances down as a pair of boxing gloves bounce next to him on the mat.  Trowa looks behind him to see Yokaze standing with her hands on her hips.  She arcs a brow at him and says dully, "You.  Me.  Here.  Now."

            Trowa blinks at her.  She is challenging him.  He leaps to the side as she lashes out with a roundhouse kick.  He brings up his arms to guard himself.  She is serious.  Apparently, if he won't talk about what's on his mind, he's going to get it fought out of him.  He ducks as her hand slices through the air aiming for his temple.

            "Yokaze..." he begins.

            She replies with a drop-kick aimed for his chin and a right hook to his kidney.  He evades both and stares into her cobalt eyes, now as icy as his demeanor had been.  He blocks a punch to the nose and grips her wrist.  With a supple twist of his body, he pulls her over his back and onto the mat.  She does not remain there, sprawled, however.

            She kicks up and grasps the hand holding her left wrist with her right hand.  As she hooks her foot around Trowa's neck, she pulls on his arm.  He somersaults over and looks up to see her standing over him.  He dodges just in time to avoid her fist and rolls to his feet.  He blocks a quick succession of kicks with his forearms and retreats a step.  She advances and Trowa sinks into a crouch, his foot sweeping out and knocking her off of her feet.  She lands on her back but swiftly rolls backward and comes up on her knees.

            Trowa is frankly amazed at her speed.  Had she been training during the NW colony tour?  He has barely enough time to wonder before he must put up his guard.  She pulls her feet beneath her with a little jolt of her body and moves toward him.  He studies her as she approaches.  She leans into her side to kick but as Trowa anticipates, she changes her mind and lashes out with the opposite fist.  He grasps her hand as it skims his jaw and twists her arm behind her back.

            Yokaze leans forward as if to pull him over her back, then pushes off of the mat as hard as she can, slamming her weight into his chest and toppling him.  The sound of their bone-jarring landing echoes in the cavernous room.  Stunned, his grip on her arm slackens and she jerks free.  Trowa rolls to his feet, breathless, and struggles to block the storm of punches she unleashes upon him.

            Again he retreats.

            Again she pursues.

            This time, as she grows near, she allows her momentum to carry her into a lightning-quick roll and rises smoothly to her feet inside Trowa's guard.  Nearly pressed against him, she grasps his wrists and hooks a foot behind his knee as she lets the momentum roll through her and against Trowa.  He is unable to stop himself from falling backward.  He attempts to spin to the side, to break her hold, but the leg entwined with his own holds firm and they crash once more onto the mat.

            Winded and struggling to regain his composure, Trowa barely feels it as she extends his arms above his head.  He can feel her hands gripping his forearms just above the elbow.  There is also a weight over his upper thighs.  He raises his head just enough to see that she's pinned his legs to the mat with her own.  He relaxes back onto the mat and concentrates on getting enough air into his lungs.

            Crouched above him, eyes inches from his, she waits.  The cold fury she reserves only for the organization slowly begins to ebb back into the recess in her soul to join her secrets and heartbreaks.  Yokaze watches the face of this man, her friend, her companion for a sign of the soldier's return.

            Soft, green eyes look up at her through his disheveled hair.  She can see his pain; it is an injury of the heart.  He swallows back the emotion rising into his mouth.  His gaze moves down to her mouth.  What he wouldn't give to feel her kiss upon his lips, to know that this morning's overheard words had been nothing more than a bad dream.  Without thinking, he whispers, "Why are you with me, Yokaze?"

            Her head tilts to one side.  "Because that is what I want."

            He shakes his head.  "Why me?"

            Her cobalt eyes do not leave his.  He feels utterly bare and defenseless beneath her, feels his pain rising to the surface for her to see.  She tells him, "Because you are who I want, Triton."

            Wordless, he stares at her.  After a long moment, he replies on the thinnest of voices, "But _why?_"

            She is silent for a long moment.  Her gaze moves over his face, studying his familiar features.  Finally, she says, "Because your soul calls to mine, sees mine, hears mine."

            "Sometimes," he whispers, "I wonder if... after all I've done in the war, after all those I've killed... if I still have a soul."

            "You do.  And it is _beautiful._"

            "What if you're wrong?"

            "What if I'm not?"

            He looks away, his throat working.  Gently, her legs slide off of his so that she straddles him.  Her hands smooth down his arms to his shoulders.

            She asks, "What do you want, Triton?"

            He looks at her, eyes shining.  "I want you to kiss me," he tells her, "because you want to."

            The pad of her thumb caresses his lower lip.  She watches his lips part.  "Nothing gives me greater pleasure."

            She leans closer, settling her body against his.  He can feel his eyes drifting closed.

            "Eyes open," she whispers against his skin.  "Watch me wanting to kiss you."

            Slowly his eyes open.  Just as slowly, her lips brush over his.  His hands glide up her arms as she settles her mouth on his.  His fingers brush through her hair and he presses his palm against the base of her skull, wordlessly asking for more.  She complies with a kiss of pure giving.  And all the while, neither of them close their eyes.

            When, at last, she pulls away Yokaze wonders aloud, "What brought all this on today?"

            He plays with her hair and breathes in her scent.  "I overheard your conversation this morning."

            She frowns, unable to see the relationship between her call to Luke and Trowa's withdraw.

            "With 'lover-boy,'" he supplies.

            "Ah."  She smiles.  "Our nicknames.  He calls me 'sex-kitten' just to annoy the hell out of me and because I'm always having to remind him to think with the head on his shoulders."

            Trowa cradles her jaw.  "Would you rather be with him?  With someone else?"

            She sends Trowa a peeved look.  "What do you feel when you and I are close?  When we kiss?  Do you think I don't feel that, too?"  Still, doubt lingers in his expression.  "Did you know that Heero has been trying to get me to move in with him for the past five years?  And where am I?"

            Trowa knows the answer: she is living with him, teaching his students with him, making dinner with him in the evenings, sleeping curled up next to him each night.  He reaches out and brushes the back of his fingers across her lips and cheek.  "I don't understand why."

            She gives him a small, lopsided smile.  "You don't have to.  Just accept it because I'm not going anywhere."

            His lips move but no sound emerges.  She reads a single word: _Promise?_

            She mouths back, "Promise."

            He sits up and wraps his arms tightly around her waist.  Her arms encircle his neck.  For a long moment they simply embrace, experiencing the heavy emotions that leaden the air around them.  Yokaze turns her face into his neck and smiles against his skin.

            "What is it?" he asks in her ear.

            "Look at us.  Here I am sitting on your lap with my arms around you neck, just how Taki had described."

            He chuckles silently.  "Well, she was right."

            Yokaze leans back to see his eyes.  "Was she?"

            He nods.  "She _should have_ chosen me over Quatre."

            She smiles widely in agreement as he leans forward to touch his lips to hers again.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 6~**


	8. Chapter 7: A Day of Firsts

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 7: A Day of Firsts**

**.**

            **The spaceport** is crammed with travelers.  Bisho takes in her surroundings with a tingle of adrenalin.  This is it.  The first step in a journey she will be undertaking without the presence of her brother or the support of Quatre.  She will do this alone.  Overhead, her flight is announced through the port's audio system.  With a deep breath, she turns toward the familiar faces.

            "Well, that's me," she announces.

            Duo nods and pulls her into a strong embrace.  Amazingly, she feels tears burn at the back of her eyes.  She tells herself she is being silly.  She will only be gone for eight weeks.  And everyone will be only a call away.  Even though she tells herself this, she cannot keep the moisture from her eyes.  When Duo finally releases her, she sees that his eyes are misty as well.  They share shaky smiles before Bisho looks over her brother's shoulder to the one man she would dare to call an uncle.

            "Take care of this dolt, Heero," she says.

            Heero nods in reply.

            She looks in Yokaze's direction and they share grins.  "Luck," Yokaze says, giving her a quick, fortifying hug.

            And last, but not least, Quatre.  Bisho forces a brave smile onto her face although she knows she's going to miss him terribly.  She buries her face in his vest, unable to stop the moisture from getting past her eyelashes.  When she looks up, his familiar, cheerful expression is waiting for her.  "Have fun," he tells her.

            Mute, she nods.  With one last look and a wave, she disappears into the crowded terminal.  Motionless in her wake, Duo concentrates on not making an idiot of himself in public.  Deep breaths, he tells himself.  That's the way.  Deep breaths.  A pressure on his shoulder brings him back to the present.  Duo turns to see Heero's hand resting against the fabric of his black T-shirt.  He grins his thanks and Heero nods toward the spaceport exit.  It's time to go.  With one more deep breath, Duo forces his legs to move in the direction Heero had indicated.  A few steps behind them, Yokaze follows.  But Quatre lingers, his aqua eyes studying the twin semicircles of moisture on his vest and wondering what Bisho had wanted to tell him the other night.

**.**

            **The garage** is unusually active in the hours following Bisho's departure.  Not only is Yokaze contributing her labor to Heero and Duo's latest project, but Taki has sequestered herself in a corner with a large hunk of scrap metal.  Garbed in flame-retardant gear and wielding both a torch and a sizable hammer, she is attempting to beat the steel into submission.

            Duo wipes the back of his hand across his forehead and heads for the table where he'd left his bottle of water.  Nearby, on a grubby, ripped barstool Wufei sits with a book to preoccupy him.  Taking a swig of lukewarm water, Duo shakes his head as the bangs and clangs in Taki's corner reach a heretofor unachieved crescendo.

            "Dude," he tells Wufei as he watches Taki's relentless attack, "I'm sorry."

            Wufei glances up from his book with a wry grin.  "Tell me about it."

            At that precise moment, the dust and oil smeared laptop on the battered table beeps.  Duo wipes his hands on the no-longer-clean seat of his pants before responding to the incoming message.

            "Maxwell's.  Duo speaking."

            Trowa's image flickers onto the screen.

            Duo blinks.  This is the first time Trowa has ever called the garage in the middle of the work day.  "Trowa.  What's up?"

            For a moment, the other man looks... uncomfortable.  "I need a favor."

            Duo blinks again.  Another first.  "Uh, sure.  Whatcha need?"

            Trowa pauses.  Again a flicker of unease crosses his features.  "Advice."

            Duo's brows arc.  "Well, if I've got any, you can have it.  What about?"

            Trowa hesitates before replying.  "I've decided to... ask someone out."

            Duo's brows climb even higher.  "Way to go."

            "But I... have a problem."

            "Okay."  Duo braces himself.

            Trowa opens his mouth and utters a single word: "Clothes."

            Duo grins.  Hugely.  "You need some duds for the big night?"

            Trowa nods.

            "Nooo problemo.  I'll come over and see what I can find in your closet.  See ya in fifteen."  Duo looks up as the screen goes blank once more and catches Wufei's gaze.  "Did you get all that?" he asks the other man.

            Wufei nods, a tiny smile pulling at his mouth.  "Very interesting."

            "Oh, yeah."

            "You didn't even ask who he's going out with."  Wufei is amazed at Duo's restraint.

            With a glance over his shoulder at Heero and Yokaze, he replies, "I think I'm safer not knowing."  He takes a step towards those still slaving away and shouts, "Hey, guys!"  Heero and Yokaze look up.  Taki is oblivious under her insulated gear.  "I just got a call from Bisho.  She forgot some stuff at the academy.  I'm gonna head over there and I'll be back in a bit."

            Yokaze waves.  Heero nods once before going back to work.

            "Nice cover story, Maxwell," Wufei tells him in an undertone.

            Duo wiggles his brows.  "And don't you forget it."  Changing out of his garage coveralls, he continues, "You gonna be here for a while?"

            Wufei nods in Taki's direction with another wry expression.  "What do you think?"

            Duo grins.  "Yeah.  Okay.  Sit by the terminal here.  I may be calling and needing some... assistance."

            All humor vanishes from Wufei's face.  "When did I volunteer to be your accomplice?"

            "You just did, Wu-man."

            Wufei grumbles at Maxwell's retreating form before turning his glare down to the book in his hands.

**.**

            **Trowa finishes** the note and leans back in his chair.  With a small piece of tape, he secures the square of paper to the one place Yokaze will be sure to notice it: her laptop screen.  Satisfied with the effect, he gathers up all the previous drafts of the note and tosses them into the wastebasket.  He had not suspected how difficult it would be to compose a simple invitation.

            Duo had said fifteen minutes.  He checks the clock on the wall.  Any minute now...

            _Knock.  Knock._

            Trowa crosses the room and opens the door.  Duo stands on the threshold with a gleam in his eye that reminds Trowa of a hungry piranha.  Not for the first time today, Trowa experiences a moment of trepidation.

            "You gonna invite me in or are we gonna do this in the hall?" Duo demands with a grin.

            Reluctantly, Trowa opens the door.  He watches Duo stride across the threshold, rubbing his hands together.

            "Okay.  Show me the goods.  What do we have to work with?  Point me in the direction of the closet."

            Trowa gestures toward his room and Duo marches ahead of him.  Trowa is right behind him as he throws open the closet doors and combs through the items on the hangers.  After a cursory examination, Duo shakes his head.

            "Pathetic," he says.  "Absolutely pathetic.  Two day-glo Hawaiian shirts and about fifty thousand green turtlenecks."  He turns an imploring violet gaze on Trowa.  "Tell me you've got something else... _anything_ else."

            Squeezing past Duo, Trowa reaches up and pulls down a stack of white sweater gift boxes.  He opens the first and sifts through the white tissue paper to pull out a brand new article of clothing.  A wool sweater with the face of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer woven into it.

            "Um, no," Duo says.

            Trowa moves on to the second box and unveils a blue- and white-striped oxford shirt.

            "Maybe," Duo tells him.  "What else is there?  And where did you get this stuff?"

            "Christmas presents from Kathy," he supplies, lifting something white and soft from the inside of the third box.

            "Woah, hold up.  Is this cashmere?"  Duo fingers the white turtleneck.  "This has potential."

            Trowa reveals the contents of the other boxes, but Duo sees nothing he can work with.  "Try the cashmere thing on."

            Reluctantly, Trowa pulls off his shirt and pulls on the cashmere turtleneck while Duo watches from the box-and-clothing-strewn bed.

            "Hmm.  Not bad, Trowa.  Not bad at all.  In fact, I think we have a winner.  This shirt speaks to me.  And do you know what it says?"

            Trowa is almost afraid to ask.

            Duo grins wickedly.  "Black.  Leather."

**.**

            **Across town,** Wufei glances sidelong at the beeping terminal.  He slides off of his perch and approaches the computer, praying the call isn't from Maxwell.  He presses the "Talk" button.  Duo's image fills the screen.

            Wufei scowls and bites back a few choice swear words.

            "Hey, Wu-man!  I knew I could count on you."

            "What do you want?"

            "I need you to go and get something for me and bring it to the academy."

            Wufei sighs, resigned.

            "It's in my room, hanging in my closet... or maybe it's in the bottom drawer of my dresser... or in a box under my bed...  Oh!  Wait!  I think I put it in the bureau beside my bed..."

            "And _what_ exactly am I looking for?"

            Duo grins.  "The most ass-kicking pair of black leather seduction pants you've ever laid eyes on."

            Wufei buries his head in his hand.  _This is not happening.   This is not happening._

            "Uh, Wu-man?  You alright?"

            "Fine," Wufei barks, straightening once more.  "The pants are in your bedroom.  I'll see what I can do."

            "You're the best.  Come right up to Trowa's apartment.  See you in a bit."

            The screen goes blank, leaving Wufei feeling a bit stranded and very much manipulated.  Slipping the book into his jacket pocket, he glances over his shoulder.  No one seems to be aware that there'd even been a call.  He's fairly confident that his absence will not be noticed.  Quietly, he slips out of the garage and heads for the house all the while cursing Maxwell.

            Wufei lets himself into the back door and heads down the hall wondering how he'll know which room is Duo's.  He tries the first door.  The room is spartan and immaculate.  He closes the door again and continues on to the next.  He flips on the light inside the second room and somehow knows he's arrived at his destination.  "Disaster" would be too tame a word to describe the scene before him.  No doubt about it.  This is Maxwell's dwelling.

            He picks his way over to the closet and surveys the articles of clothing haphazardly hung on the rack and piled at his feet.  With a second sigh, he starts to sift through the items until—dare he hope?—he finds a pair of black suede pants.  He pulls them out from among the other articles, including but not limited to a black and gold feather boa.  Turning to go, he notices something strange about these pants.  Two large circles had been cut out of the rear of them in order to expose the wearer's posterior.  Startled, Wufei lets go of the article and watches it land in a tangle on the floor.  He glares at it for a moment, thinking of what he should say to Maxwell about such an outrageous item.  And then, with hands on his hips, he turns back to the closet.  Obviously Trowa couldn't wear those on a date.  There must be another pair of black leather pants around here.

            He sifts through the discarded clothing on the floor of the closet and pulls out a tiger-stripe print pair of G-string underwear.  With a snarl, he tosses them back into the closet as if they are bacteria-laden.  He continues to search, against his better judgment, but finds no other leather items.  Standing, he surveys Duo's room and tries to remember the other locations Duo had mentioned.  His gaze alights on the dresser.

            _Ah, yes.  The bottom drawer._  He advances on the dresser and yanks open the drawer.  And promptly discovers a pair of fishnet stockings attached to a black satin garter belt.  Wufei swallows back a heavy sigh and, with a deep breath, he forges onward.  He uncovers a leather lace-up vest, a white silk kimono, and a bundle of soft, black cotton rope, but no pants.

            Teeth grinding, Wufei decides to try under the bed.  _You so owe me for this, Maxwell._  Crouching down, Wufei reaches under Duo's bed and unearths a pair of sparkly high-heeled sandals, women's size eleven.  He shakes his head and gets down on his stomach in order to peer under the bed.  He blinks as he finds himself face-to-face with a goldfish bowl filled with prophylactics.  _Flavored_ prophylactics.  Lemon, cherry, piña colada...  He knocks the goldfish bowl aside and forces himself to give the space under the bed a thorough inspection.  No pants.

            He sits back on his heels and, with dread, regards the bed-side bureau.  Slowly, he stretches out his hand to the knob on the door.  With a tiny _creak_ the door swings open.  Something silver and gleaming draws Wufei's attention.  He pulls out a pair of handcuffs.  Disgusted, he tosses them on the unmade bed and stares into the gloom of the bureau.  He also finds a can of chocolate-flavored body paint that had expired two years ago and a package of... _edible underwear??_  Wufei realizes he's reached his breaking point.  One more kinky item and he is out of here, black leather pants or no black leather pants.  But there are still a few more shadowed items in the bureau.  With a breath that sounds more like a growl than a sigh, Wufei reaches into the darkness and discovers... leather!?  Eagerly, he yanks out the item which proves to be a pair of black leather pants.

            His shoulders slump in relief.  He balls up the clothing and flees the horrors of Maxwell's room.

**.**

            **"Okay, Trowa,"** Duo continues after shutting off his friend's laptop.  "Let's talk about underwear."

            Trowa's brow arcs.  "Let's not," he replies.

            Duo laughs.  "Good one, man.  But, seriously, we've got to talk about underwear.  I mean, you do hope to get laid after this date, don't you?"

            Trowa glares at him.

            "Besides, nothin' but the best is going in the Seduction Pants."  Duo stands up and heads back into Trowa's room and begins sifting through dresser drawers.

            Beginning to seriously regret asking for Duo's assistance in this matter, Trowa follows him back into the bedroom.  Once again, Duo is distraught over the selection of underthings.

            "That's it!" Duo declares.  "As soon as Wufei gets here and we make sure the Seduction Pants fit, you and I are going shopping."

            Trowa's brows draw together in an expression of anxiety.

            Approximately thirty minutes later, Wufei appears, glaring.  He tosses the pants at Duo's head and says very clearly, "You.  Are.  A.  Sick.  _Sick._  Person."

            Duo blinks.  "What?"

            Without another word, Wufei turns and marches back down the stairs.

            With a shrug, Duo closes the door and hands the pants to Trowa.  "Try these on."  Trowa tries them on.  Walking around him in order to better survey the effect of the cashmere shirt and leather pants, Duo lets out a low whistle.  "Now we're gettin' somewhere."

            And, a short while later, that somewhere happened to be the men's underwear section of the largest department store on the colony.

            "Here," Duo says selecting a lipstick red pair of G-strings.  "Try these on."

            Trowa simply stares at him.

            "C'mon.  Take the undies.  Take the undies."  Trowa doesn't move.  With a huff, Duo grabs Trowa's hand and shoves the underwear into his grasp.  He stares mutely down at the skimpy article as Duo starts examining the other items on display.  Shaking his head in disbelief, Trowa looks up in time to catch the eye of a female sales associate.  Impossibly, he feels his face heat. 

            "Hey!  This would look great on you!" Duo exclaims, shoving a gray and white pair of faux snakeskin bikini briefs into Trowa's arms.

            "No," Trowa replies.

            Duo blinks.  "I disagree.  With your complexion—"

            Trowa holds up both items and states, "Not comfortable."  He shoves the underwear at Duo.

            Duo shoves them back at Trowa.  "They're not _supposed_ to be comfortable.  They're _supposed_ to make you as uncomfortable as possible so your date will _remove_ them as soon as possible."

            Glaring, Trowa watches Duo beckon the sales associate over so he can ask where their satin low-riding briefs are displayed.  Wishing he could restart this day, Trowa grudgingly trails after them.

**.**

            **Yokaze arrives** at the apartment only to discover it is vacant.  Wondering where Trowa has got to, she changes out of her sweaty garage clothes and takes a long shower.  She's wandering about in search of her hairbrush when she notices her laptop screen is upright.  With a frown, she sinks into her chair and peals a note off of the blank screen.

            It reads: _I didn't thank you for yesterday.  Meet me at_ L'Cour de Petit Paris _tonight, __six o'clock__.  Unquestionably yours, Triton._

            She re-reads the note and feels a flutter of panic at the name of the colony's most prestigious restaurant.  A few moments later she finds herself outside of George and Kathy's apartment, knocking on their door.

            Answering the summons, Kathy grins a welcome before realizing she's looking at a very distressed Yokaze.  "Yokaze?  Is everything alright?  Are you okay?"

            Yokaze swallows down her anxiety and, pointing to her damp, tangled hair mutters a single word: "Help."

            Kathy laughs and beckons her into the apartment.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 7~**


	9. Chapter 8: Dining Dangerously

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 8: Dining Dangerously__**

**.**

            **Quatre stares blindly** down at his menu.  Seated at a table for one at L'Cour de Petit Paris, he feels not so much that he is on vacation but in exile.  How long has it been since he has had so much free time?  He cannot remember.  Nor does he know what to do with himself, especially without Bisho's company.  He shakes his head.  She is eighteen going on thirty.  So young.  And yet, those violet eyes see so much.

            With a small sigh, he allows his gaze to drift to the window over his table.  Once he'd considered windows a distraction to a gourmet meal, but Bisho had changed his mind.  Now he remembers the laughs they'd gleaned from watching all of the funny looking folks schlepping along outside.  In all the years he has known her, she has never not enjoyed people-watching.  Sometimes Quatre wonders if she has chosen the correct field of study.  Do all aerospace engineering students spend their Sunday afternoons with a billionaire, laughing at passersby?  Quatre thinks the answer has got to be no.

            "Excuse me, sir, but have you reached a decision?"

            The waiter's voice pulls Quatre from his reverie.  He forces himself to skim the menu.  "Um..."  Automatically, he takes note of all of the entrées Bisho would like.  And then he grins at the ones she would absolutely refuse to eat if she knew what they contained.  Which to choose?  His stomach is giving him no suggestions.  He looks up at the man waiting patiently at his elbow and mumbles the first thing that comes to his mind: something she would like.  He hands his menu back to the server and finds himself turning toward the window once more.  Only, this time, the view has changed.

            He squints and leans a little closer to the glass, studying the figure of a tall man leaning against the ornate lamppost on the walk outside.  Quatre studies the classic black leather pants and soft, white shirt the man is wearing before noting the arms crossed over his chest and wealth of brown hair obscuring his face.  _Is that_..._  No, it can't be_...

            His thought is interrupted, however, by a taxi breaking to a smooth stop at the curb.  Both Quatre and the man at the lamppost turn to watch first a sleek, black velvet high-heeled shoe followed by a long, graceful leg emerge from the cab.  Quatre's mouth drops open as the woman steps onto the walk.  He stares at her long, blue-gray silk dress.  As she walks a slit on each side reveals glimpses of her legs nearly all the way up to her hips.  Above the conservative Chinese collar, her scalp glitters with tiny barrettes which tame her dark hair into a smooth, elegant style.  Her dark eyes focus on the man in the white turtleneck and Quatre finally realizes his instincts had been correct: that _is_ Trowa and the woman he'd been waiting for is undoubtedly Yokaze.

            Quatre snaps out of his daze long enough to read their exchange.

            "Nice pants," she tells him with a cheeky grin.

            And, is Quatre imagining it or does Trowa actually _blush?_  "You're in a dress," he states by way of reply.

            Yokaze's grin turns wry.  "Kathy's fault."

            Trowa's gaze speaks more eloquently than words as he reaches out to her.  She takes his hand and he gently twirls her around, frankly admiring the way the silk clings to her hips.

            "Will I do?" she asks, her expression indicating she knows how unnecessary the question is.

            Trowa nods and gently removes her hand from his in order to wrap it around his arm.  He inclines his head toward L'Cour in invitation.

            Quatre leans back in his chair and blinks.  Trowa and Yokaze are on a _date._  Quatre grins.  Things certainly are different this time.  He'd been wondering how many times Yokaze would have to disappear on a tour or one of her many "missions" before Trowa would admit how much she means to him.

            From the anonymity of his small table, Quatre watches the maitre d' seat them.  He examines Yokaze's profile and wonders about her missions.  Five years ago, when she'd been reuniting the gundam pilots with ghosts from their pasts she had, seemingly, ignored Quatre.  _Did you know, Yokaze?  Did you know what Bisho would come to mean to me even though she'd been intended for Duo?_

            Ah, but there's the heart of the issue.  What _does_ Bisho mean to him?  Quatre stares down at his hands and attempts to sort through the tangle of emotions.  He cares for her.  Thinks of her constantly.  And is embarrassed by it.  He should not have these feelings for her.  Bisho deserves better; she is a free spirit whereas he is chained to responsibilities.  She breathes life and mischief into his monotonous existence.  And Quatre realizes that he cannot resist her.  He should have been happy for her—getting her first internship.  But he hadn't been.  He'd felt instead something he hadn't felt in a very, very long time: panic.  She is growing up and away from him.  And in this moment of honesty, Quatre knows he is not ready to let her go.  He feels a heavy ache in the region of his heart and knows that his soul needs her in order to be free, in order to escape the drudgery of the niceties and diplomacy that constitute his every day.

            _But I have to let her grow up.  To live.  To love._  He envies her; to have a family that loves him but to not have the responsibilities that come with wealth...  Sometimes the pressures weigh him down so badly, he can barely breathe.  But then he thinks of Bisho and it's a different kind of breathlessness.

            When Quatre's meal arrives, he barely pays any attention.  He stares out the window, attempting to arrive at a conclusion that gives him some peace.  A movement draws his gaze and Quatre finds himself watching Yokaze offering Trowa a bite of her dinner from the tip of a very sharp looking knife.  With a tiny smile, Trowa leans forward.  He doesn't even hold her wrist steady as he takes the morsel into his mouth.  Quatre would, personally, be a little worried about cutting himself on the knife's edge.  But this is Trowa.  And he does have considerable experience with knives.  After all, one of the circus's most popular acts had been Kathy's knife-throwing routine during which Trowa had been secured to a stationary disk.  Still, Quatre can't help thinking that those two are dining a little dangerously.

            He continues to watch them, happy for a distraction.  For a couple on a date, they are surprisingly content to spend their time in silence.  Their communication is based on a wide range of glances.  As Trowa takes a sip of wine, Yokaze watches his throat.  As she lifts a bite to her lips, he focuses on her mouth.  No words are spoken, but Quatre reads the tension between them easily as it builds.  Trowa's hand fists under her scrutiny.  And, even at a distance, Quatre can read the look she gives him as she licks a bit of sauce from her index finger.  Trowa's eyes narrow and linger on the place where her collar comes together at the base of her throat.

            Watching them, Quatre is reminded of those old, monochrome silent films.  Only this one would be rated "R."  He half expects Trowa to stand up, walk around the table to Yokaze, and kiss her.  And the way Yokaze's gaze keeps returning to his shirt, Quatre is pretty sure that should Trowa approach her she would have her hands under that cashmere in record time.

            Quatre smiles to himself, enjoying the romance in the air.  He fiddles with his meal and feels his own troubles shift aside to make room for the happy knowledge that seeing Trowa and Yokaze together brings him.  For a moment, he considers telling Duo about his observations this evening.  But only for a moment.  Quatre knows he could never adequately communicate what those two manage to say without a single word.

**.**

            ** Wufei emerges** from the kitchen with two steaming plates, victorious.  He turns the corner into the sitting room.  His steps slow and then stop.  His dark gaze examines Taki's slumped figure.  He approaches her unconscious form, noting that she seems to have conked out on her sketchbook.  He can see the edge of the spiral binding through her hair.  In her hand, she still grasps her favorite mechanical pencil.

            For a moment, Wufei simply watches her drool on her open sketchbook.  With small smile and a shake of the head, he sets one plate down and approaches with the second.  He knows that there are several layers to Taki's sleep.  He waves the plate of steaming orange chicken and fried rice (her favorite) under her nose and waits.

            No reaction.  Both of Wufei's eyebrows arc at this.  She is well and truly unconscious.  He sets the second plate aside and leans down to gather her into his arms.  After a moment, he stands.  Cradled against his chest, Taki is still fast asleep and is now peacefully drooling on his shirt.

            He carries her down the short hall to their room and settles her on the bed.  Gently, he removes her dusty shoes and sweaty socks.  Wufei then goes to the closet to select a pair of pajamas.  Knowing that she usually sleeps in an over-sized black T-shirt, he pulls something satiny and pastel from the very end of the rack.  He carefully dresses her in the matching top and bottoms before tucking a spare blanket around her.

            And then, with a mess awaiting him in the kitchen, he sits down on the edge of the bed and watches her sleep.  His gaze catches the glint of stainless steel and grins as he notices that her hand is still clutching the mechanical pencil.  He vividly recalls the first time he'd endeavored to return it to her after she'd left it behind in Relena's library.  He silently shakes his head and laughs.  He'd still been furious with her for stealing his bike and turning him on.

            She'd told him once how she'd found his bike keys.  Taki is a woman who, once she knows what she wants, will do anything and everything to attain it.  As any good thief would.  Or _wealth re-distributor_ as she prefers.  Although she claims to be retired, Wufei has never really believed her, not when every day she does something crazy and brazen that manages to steal his heart all over again.

**.**

            **Sleep will not** come to Heero this night.  Resigned, he stares at the shadowed ceiling of his room for too many breaths to count before throwing back the covers and approaching the laptop on his desk.  As he slides into the desk chair, his index finger hovers above the power button.  Hovers, but does not press it.

            Letting out a long breath, he withdraws his hand and simply sits.  He stares at the black screen and knows that he will not find the cure to his insomnia on a computer.  For the past two days, his thoughts have been circling the same unavoidable questions: Does he stay here because of Duo?  Had Duo been right about that?

            Still, Heero shies away from the answer.  He leaves his seat and prowls out into the hall.  He heads for the kitchen and a cup of coffee when he notices that Duo's door is ajar.  He stares at the door and wonders if Duo is still awake as well.

            Soundlessly, he moves toward the threshold and pushes the door open the rest of the way.  "Duo?" he asks.  Heero surveys the room.  The mess is undiminished.  And sprawled on top of a very rumpled bed, he finds his quarry... asleep.  There is something about the way the light from the streetlamps sifts through the disheveled blinds revealing the odd sliver of bare skin in the darkness.  Heero steps into the room.

            He finds his way through the chaos with ease, as if crossing Duo's room is something he does on a regular basis.  Heero pauses beside the bed, his gaze moving over Duo's braid.  The yellow light from the street brings out the golden highlights, Heero notices.  His gaze moves over Duo's face, relaxed and innocent in sleep.  His throat, where his pulse gently throbs in time with his heartbeat.  His bare shoulder and chest and down his abdomen to a pair of funky boxer shorts.  In the darkness, Heero can discern a picture of a large bratwurst on the fly and several accompanying phrases across the hips: _Tasty tubular goodness!_ and _Got buns?_ also _Turgid and loving it!_   Heero feels his mouth pull into a small smile at the idiotic shorts.  Only Duo would wear something like this.

            Heero's gaze slides back up to Duo's face and muses, _Only Duo_...  And then he thinks of the night before last for the hundredth time.  A single thought rises with sudden conviction:_ I have to know if it was real._  Slowly, deliberately, Heero reaches out a hand.  Softly, so softly, the pad of his thumb caresses Duo's lower lip.  He marvels at the smoothness of Duo's skin for a heartbeat before pulling away.  In silence, Heero's gaze moves from Duo's mouth to his own fingers.  For a long moment, he simply contemplates the pad of his thumb before bringing it to his own mouth and licking the calloused surface.

            Heero's eyes slide closed as Duo's taste comes alive on his tongue.  The other night had been no dream Heero realizes as he recognizes Duo's flavor sans rum.  Duo _had_ kissed him.  He opens his eyes and stares down at the familiar face.  Duo had kissed him.  Not once, but twice.  Had slid his hand beneath Heero's shirt and caressed his back, had rubbed his hips against Heero's, had penetrated Heero's mouth with his tongue.  And Heero had allowed it.

            He opens his mouth and licks the pad of his thumb once more.  In that moment, Heero knows that he would allow it again.  He stares down at Duo for a minute longer, savoring, remembering.  Then turns and retreats from the room.  As he closes the door behind him Heero wonders, for the first time, if Duo had been right. 

**.**

            **The white.**  It draws Yokaze's gaze until she is compelled to slide away from Trowa and collect the discarded article from the foot of the bed.  For a long moment, she simply stares at it, working the soft knit between her fingers.  She finds it ironic that Trowa would choose this color to wear on their first date.  She hopes it isn't an omen.

            The moment Yokaze had stirred, Trowa had awakened.  He watches her in perfect silence as she picks up the shirt he had worn tonight and rubs it against her fingertips.  He senses the distance in her and reaches out.  His fingers brush the bare skin of her back, beckoning her to return to him, the here and now.

            She looks at him over her shoulder and smiles.  It's a small gesture which Trowa senses she doesn't truly feel.  Yokaze abandons the cashmere and returns to Trowa's side.

            "Thank you," she tells him, her head on his shoulder and her gaze straying to the white shirt.

            He turns his head and speaks into her hair.  "For what?"

            "Tonight," she says.

            Trowa reaches for her hand and interlaces their fingers.  He can still feel her distance.  He waits and hopes she will confide in him.

            Yokaze watches Trowa's thumb trace small circles on the back of her hand.  Suddenly, the pain of the white is overwhelming.  She knows it's only because she is tired, but tears burn at her eyes nonetheless.  She turns her face into Trowa's neck and slowly slides her body on top of his.  She feels his arms come around her, bringing her closer.

            After a minute, she pulls back far enough to look into his green eyes.  She tells him, "I didn't have a single pleasant memory of the color white until tonight."

            Trowa gently combs wayward strands of hair away from her face.  "So tonight was 'pleasant' was it?" he asks quietly.

            Her gaze becomes knowing.  "More than pleasant."

            He smiles.  "I'm glad.  Because you have no idea what I went through to make this evening possible."

            Yokaze grins broadly and reaches across Trowa's chest to yank a small article of clothing from the tangled bed sheets.  "Does that have anything to do with these?" she inquires holding up the ultra-sexy underwear.

            He winces and feels his face heat.  "You, ah, noticed those did you?"

            She arcs a brow.  "A bit hard not to."

            "Duo's fault," Trowa manages.

            Yokaze looks very impressed.  "I'll have to thank him later."

            "Better you than me," he murmurs before finally telling her about his adventures in underwear shopping with Duo.  She is shaking with silent laughter by the time he finishes.

            Trowa watches her mirth, thinking that he much prefers these tears to the ones she'd hidden from him earlier.  He wonders at her confession.  What is the color white to her?  Undoubtedly it is significant but he had not been able to bring himself to ask.  Yokaze has many secrets, as does Trowa.  He believes there will be a time to share them, only just not now.  _Let the sad stories wait,_ he implores the fates.  He is not ready to bare his scars and risk Yokaze's reaction.  Not when everything between them is so new.

            She wipes her tears on the edge of the sheet and draws a calming breath.  Yokaze looks into Trowa's green eyes and marvels at his gift for making her laugh.  The subtle tones of his voice, the nearly invisible lifts of his brows... somehow the combination is exactly right.  She smiles.  He grins back.  And in that moment, their world is perfect.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 8~**


	10. Chapter 9: The Payback

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 9: The Payback**

**.**

            **"Taki."******

            The sound of her name somehow penetrates the exhaustion-induced coma she'd been peacefully residing within.

            "Taki."

            She turns her head away from the sound.

            "Taki."

            "Murf vay," she mumbles into the pillow.

            Beside the bed, hands on his hips, Wufei contemplates the immovable form.  With a small sigh, he decides to break out his secret weapon.  He leans over her and whispers a single word into her ear: "Children."

            She is instantly awake with a small shriek.  Wufei hides his grin as she sits up and looks about the room for the horrors.  Then, just as she starts to relax, she glances down.  She utters a second horrified shriek at the sight of the pajamas Wufei had dressed her in the night before.  She levels a lethal glare on the man trying to keep a smile from his face.  Taki points to the pastel garments and growls by way of morning greeting, "What in the _hell_ is this?"

            Wufei tries to keep his mouth from twitching.  "Pajamas," he tells her, brilliantly stating the obvious.

            "Ye-_ah_," she agrees.  "But why are they on _me?_"  She gazes down at herself, taking in the images of Precious Moments children covering her from neck to ankle.  She can read a single phrase repeated over and over again: _Angels from heaven._  "Demons from hell, more like," Taki mutters.  "Whiney, grubby, snot-blowing, soul-sucking little poop machines."

            Wufei coughs to cover up a bark of laughter.  In lieu of answering her question, he hands her a pair of fuzzy teddy bear slippers, each with a pink bow decorating the right ear.  "Breakfast is on the table downstairs."

            She sets the slippers aside.  "Fine.  I'll just get changed—" 

            Wufei shakes his head and moves to stand in front of the closet.  "Breakfast is ready _now._"

            Taki stares at him, open-mouthed.  "You expect me to wear _this_ downstairs?"

            Grinning unabashedly now, he leans forward and mutters three words: "Pink.  Fuzzy.  Bathrobe."

            She slumps in resignation of her payback.  With a heavy sigh, she sits down on the bed and reaches for the fuzzy slippers.

**.**

            **George looks up** from helping Kathy set the table as a shadow fills the doorway.

            "Good morning, Heero," Kathy says.  "I'm glad you could make it.  Did Duo come with you?"

            Approaching the table, Heero shakes his head.  "He had to pick up the photos he took of Bisho at the spaceport.  He'll be here soon."

            George nods and motions for Heero to have a seat.  As Heero sits, a second figure enters the room.

            "Good morning, everyone."  Quatre grins at the sight of Heero.  Taking the seat opposite, he asks, "How are things with Duo?"

            Heero coughs into his cup of steaming coffee.  "What?" he croaks.

            Quatre's benign smile doesn't so much as twitch.  "The garage.  How's it going?"

            "Oh.  Fine," he grunts, turning his attention to wiping up the coffee splatters on his plate and hand.

            In the moment Heero's gaze is directed elsewhere, a sly, knowing expression shows briefly on Quatre's face.  A motion near the door draws Quatre's gaze.  "Taki and Wufei have... arrived..."  His voice trails off as he takes in the pajamas Taki is wearing.  "Er...  Taki...  Do you, ah, have something to tell us, perhaps?" Quatre ventures.

            With a glare at Wufei, she declares, "No."

            Quatre swallows yet another grin as he realizes he is witnessing something akin to a payback.

            She slides into the nearest seat and tells George, "Just feed me already.  I wanna get this over with."

            Wufei's brows arc.  "But I thought we could go to the zoo after breakfast..."

            The stare she turns on him could cut ice.  "You are a sick, _sick_ son of a—"

            "'Morning!"

            Everyone looks up at Duo's timely arrival.

            "Did you bring the photos of Bisho with you?" Kathy asks.

            Grinning, Duo plops the packet down on the table next to his plate.  "Yup.  Plus, they gave me one of those throw-away cameras for free.  Promo deal and all that."  He holds up the camera.  As he pulls his chair out, a motion at the other end of the table snags his attention.

            "Dude!  Taki!  What happened to you?"  In a matter of seconds, Duo has the small cardboard camera in position and is clicking away.

            Taki glares at Wufei yet again.  "I don't know how, but this is all your fault."

            Duo pats the camera.  "Whew.  I'm glad I got a picture of that."

            "I'm not," she grouses.

            Wufei, wisely, remains silent.

            "So, Taki.  Is this..."  He gestures to the pajamas.  "...like a hint or something?"

            Uncomprehending, she parrots, "A hint?"

            "Are you two... expecting?" he drawls with a massive grin.

            Taki is instantly incensed.  "NO!  I AM NOT NOR WILL I EVER BE PREGNANT!  YOU GOT THAT, MAXWELL!?"

            Duo backs up a step and snaps a second photo of Taki's reddened visage.  Lowering the camera, Duo looks at Wufei and mutters, "She sounds just like you, man.  Freaky."

            Wufei's tears of mirth are the only reply.

            Duo turns to return to his end of the table.  When out of the corner of his eye he spots a figure in the doorway.  He pauses and opens his mouth to offer a greeting to Trowa when a second figure appears behind the tall man.  A single hand grabs one of Trowa's belt loops and pulls him out of sight into the hall.

            Blinking, Duo cautiously approaches the doorway.  The sound of conversation resuming at the table tells Duo that no one else had noticed Trowa's almost entrance.  Camera ready, he leans out the archway to investigate.  His jaw drops.

            Trowa and Yokaze are going at it in the _hall!_  With shaky hands, he quickly snaps a photo.  If either of them had heard the tell-tale click of the camera, they made no sign of it.

            "Where's Trowa and Yokaze?" Taki says suddenly from the table.

            Duo grins widely as Yokaze finally manages to get her hands under Trowa's turtleneck and Trowa's hands roam down her back, down, down...  Duo snaps yet another photo.  He hears Kathy's reply to Taki's question.

            "I'm not sure.  I didn't even hear her come in last night from her date."

            The silence at the table speaks volumes.  After a breathless moment, Wufei's wry voice finally breaks the unnatural quiet.  "Congratulations, Kathy.  You've managed something I haven't in over five years: you got her to shut up."

            Duo glances away from the passionate couple in the hall in time to see Taki's mouth snap closed as she glares daggers at her companion.  Ignoring her hostility, Wufei takes a sip of coffee.

            From the man's other side, Heero says very quietly, "Date?"

            Duo's gaze returns to the hall and he notices that they've changed positions: now Yokaze is pressed against the wall and Trowa's hands are...  _Woah__!  _He snaps a third photo.

            "Hey, D-duo?" George calls as he places platters of steaming delicacies on the table.  "C-can you see them?"

            Immediately, Duo shakes his head.  "Nope.  No sign of them.  Let's eat."

            Taki reaches for the nearest plate.  Her spoon pauses in mid-air when she hears Duo exclaim: "Woah!  Are those teddy bear slippers?!" followed by the click of a camera lens.  Taki lowers her glowering face into her hands and shakes her head.

            "Toast?" Wufei asks innocently.

            He watches her fingers shift until he can see the malicious gleam in her eyes.  "Yes," she agrees, "you will be, Dragon Boy.  You will be."

**.**

            ** Trowa leans against** the doorframe and watches Yokaze pull on her grungy garage clothes.  "Did you hear Duo?"

            Yokaze steps into her faded jeans.  "When he was taking all those pictures of us in the hall?"

            Trowa chuckles.  "No.  As we passed him on our way into breakfast."

            "I guess I didn't.  What did he say?"

            "That I could thank him for the Seduction Pants later."

            Both of Yokaze's brows arc.  "Hell, I'll thank him now."

            Trowa grins, his eyes following Yokaze as she sits down to pull on her boots.  He watches her hands deftly handle the long, brown laces and wonders what he could say that would persuade her to spend the morning with him instead of heading off to the garage.  The evening before and this morning have been... beyond description and Trowa is in no hurry to allow the rest of the world to intrude on them.  As he stands there, struggling with words, a soft sound from the sitting room draws his attention.  He strides into the other room and stops in front of Yokaze's laptop.  Trowa leans forward and answers the summons.

            "Hey there you sexy..."  The blond man on the screen blinks as Trowa and not Yokaze's face stares back at him.  "Uh... is NW around?"

            Hiding a grin at the other man's expense, Trowa nods.  "Just a moment."  He heads back to the bedroom.

            "Who is it?" Yokaze asks, picking up her garage duffle.

            Trowa doesn't answer until she is crowding the doorway with him.  In a low voice and with a miniscule wiggle of his brows, he tells her, "It's lover-boy."

            Yokaze snorts at his comical expression.  "And just how are you managing to be here _and_ on my laptop screen right now?"

            His eyes darken at the comment.  "Talent," he mutters.

            She knows that look.  Over the last eighteen hours she's seen it quite often.  Her hand caresses his abdomen as she passes him and heads for the laptop.  She can't hear him, but she's fairly certain he's followed her.  She takes a seat behind the computer and notes Trowa looming from the other side of the desk.

            "Hello, Luke," she says, turning her attention on the monitor.

            "Hello yourself, my lovely sex goddess."

            Yokaze arcs a brow at him.  "You're chipper this morning.  Jock itch all cleared up?"

            Luke laughs and clutches his chest in mock heartache.  "Oh, you sure know how to cut a man down, NW."

            "I hope you have something for me?"

            "Other than my unconditional love and devotion?"

            She nods.  "Yes."

            Luke grins.  "Well you are in luck.  I've got the info you requested.  Don't know if it's what you're looking for.  It's pretty boring stuff."  On his end, Luke taps out a command on his pc.  A few seconds later, Yokaze's inbox alerts her to a new message.

            As she's reviewing the file, Luke clears his throat.  "So, ah, NW, who was that guy who answered?"

            "He's some seriously hot stuff, Luke, that's who he is."  She glimpses a bit of a blush spreading over Trowa's cheekbones at her factual statement.

            Luke grins.  "Oooh?  And is that the voice of experience talking?"

            "Would you be jealous if it were?"

            "I would be heartbroken."

            "I keep telling you I'm a ManEater."

            "I know, but my heart won't listen."

            "It will if I rip it out."

            Luke winces.  "Ouch.  You sure tell it how it is."

            She grins in reply.  "You have been warned.  I'm uncharmable.  Save it for Fifi or Brandy or whichever flavor of the week you've got drooling all over you."

            He chuckles.  "Oh, all right.  I'll catch you around."

            "Yup.  Oh, and Luke?"

            "Yeah?"

            "Thanks for this data.  I owe you one."

            A completely lascivious grin spreads across his handsome face.  "Really?"

            Yokaze rolls her eyes.  "I owe you a favor which Mr. Hot Stuff won't object to," she elaborates.

            Luke feigns a look of crestfallen disappointment.

            "Took the wind out of your sails, did I?" she asks.

            He grins.  "Yeah, but a good blow might—"

            Yokaze cuts him off by closing her laptop.  She looks up at Trowa's face.  His shoulders are shaking in silent laughter.  "Is he always like that?" he asks.

            "Yup.  During his finer moments he reminds me of Duo, a much younger, much more perverted Duo..."

            Trowa watches her pull a disk from the laptop's drive and slip it into her back pocket.  He briefly wonders what is on it before turning his attention to the way Yokaze's hair curls around her earlobe.  Trowa watches her pick up her duffle bag and sling it over her shoulder.  As she prepares to leave, a single request flutters through his mind: _Stay._

            Yokaze takes in Trowa's silence.  Reads in his eyes and body language what he will not say.  She walks up to him and reaches around him to slide both of her hands into his jeans' back pockets.  He reaches up and toys with the wayward lock of hair he'd noticed.  He wants to tell her he likes her hair, likes the way she pulls him close, likes the warmth in her eyes.  He is so full of words that they jam in his throat and he says nothing at all.  But Yokaze seems to understand, nonetheless.

            "I'll see you this afternoon," she tells him.

            Silently, Trowa nods and watches her pull away.  He stares at the door for a solid minute after it has shut in her wake.  When, finally, he goes to check his own messages, something in his back pocket catches his attention as he sits down.  He pulls out a small note written in Yokaze's horrendous handwriting.

            _Thanks for a very memorable morning, Hot Stuff.  I didn't know any of that was humanly possible in a vertical position._

            Laughing, Trowa reaches for a pen and paper in order to compose his reply.__

**.**

           **Heero pointedly looks** at the clock in the garage as Yokaze wanders in.  With a look that clearly says, _You're__ late_, he returns to the transmission he's assaulting.

            Yokaze glances in Duo's direction but the other man only shrugs before bending over his own project.  She wonders about the bee Heero's obviously got up his bum.  Knowing that if she annoys him enough, he'll come out with it, she starts singing under her breath.

            "Leather things, Duo's missin.'  Didn't ask his permission..."

            Sauntering over to Heero's toolbox, she selects a wrench from its contents.

            "He's got a cute little bun, that son of a gun..."

            Duo puts down his tools and stares at Yokaze in ill-disguised shock.

            "Watchin' boys in sexy underwear."

            Heero, however, had redoubled his molestation of the transmission.

            "Silky pants, Quatre's wearin.'  No, I don't think I can share him..."

            A loud snort of laughter from Duo echoes in the cavernous room.

            "He's lookin' so nice, like sugar an' spice...  Love them boys in sexy underwear."

            Duo chuckles to himself as Heero glares at the metal in front of him, steadfastly ignoring Yokaze's crazy rendition of Walking in a Winter Wonderland.  It's not even fall, for God's sake.

            "Spandex pants, Heero's showin.'  Maybe they stopped him from growin'..."

            Duo throws back his head and laughs.

            "They hold him so tight, no circulation tonight..."

            Heero looks up from the transmission and glares alternately at Duo and then at Yokaze.  Blithely, she continues singing her outrageous tune.

            "Checkin' out the sexy underwear."

            Starting in on the other side of Heero's transmission, she continues, "Dragon things, Wufei's got it.  Polka dot, striped, and spotted.  He's got a mean glare and some silk underwear..."

            Heero glowers as Duo joins in the chorus with Yokaze.  "Let me see that sexy underwear!"

            "Turtlenecks are Trowa's favorite, he'll show the goods to ya naked.  Likes makin' out in the hall..."  She sends Duo a knowing look.  "Cameras and all..."

            "Yokaze!"

            She glances up at the sound of Heero's rabid outburst.  "Yes?"

            A muscle in Heero's jaw twitches spasmodically.

            "Let me guess.  No Christmas spirit?"

            "It's June!"

            "So?  Loosen your shorts."

            Heero articulates, "There is nothing wrong with my shorts."

            "Aside from the fact that no one's ever pulled them off with their teeth..."

            Duo attempts to quell his laughter and fails miserably.

            Glaring, Heero demands, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

            Yokaze says, quite loudly, "That you need to get yourself laid!"

            "I suppose, after your _date_ last night, you'd be the expert."

            She lifts a brow.  "Do you really want me to respond to that?"

            "No."

            "Well, all right, then."

            There is a short pause.  "But you did have a date last night," he mutters, half question, half accusation.  "With Barton."

            Her expression softens.  "It wasn't nearly as bad as you make it sound."

            Unable to stop himself, Duo asks, "How was it, then?"

            Yokaze grins.  "Lovely.  By the way, Duo.  Thank you."

            Heero's eyes narrow in suspicion.  "'Thank you' for what?" he asks hesitantly.

            Cobalt gaze to cobalt gaze, Yokaze informs him, "Ask me that again and I _swear_ I'll tell you."

            Heero turns back to the transmission without another word.  And judging by the set of his jaw, he has lost his inclination to communicate.

            Swearing silently to herself, Yokaze returns to work.  Duo attempts to restart conversation, but neither Yuy is very responsive.  After a few minutes, he turns on the radio to distract him from Heero's sullenness and Yokaze's exasperation.  The garage clock slowly, relentlessly measures the morning.  It is with pure relief when at promptly 11:30, Duo excuses himself to go start on lunch.

            Heero ignores Duo's departure.  Yokaze, however, leans over the transmission and watches Heero as he pretends she is not practically breathing down his neck.

            She says his name.

            She receives no reply.  With a dark look, she reaches out and snatches the socket wrench from his hand.  Glaring, Heero straightens and holds out his hand for the tool.  Yokaze ignores the silent request and gazes at him expectantly.  For a full minute, neither of them utters a sound nor moves a muscle.

            Realizing that Yokaze has no intention of returning the wrench, he moves to select a second from his toolbox.  She beats him to it and solidly blocks his path.  He glares at her in silence.  

            "You don't know what you're doing," he growls finally.

            "With what?"

            A muscle along Heero's jaw ticks.  "With Barton.  He's a soldier, Yokaze."

            "And what was I during the war?  Before it?  I suppose you think I just sat around with my thumb up my—"

            Heero's fist connects loudly and solidly with the machine beside him.  "God dammit, he's like me.  He's a soldier.  And that's never going to change."

            "I'm not trying to change anyone, here," she replies carefully.

            Heero looks away, gathering his thoughts and his composure.  "The training doesn't go away, Yokaze.  Don't you understand what that means?  Don't you see the kind of damage he could cause?"

            For a moment, Yokaze is silent.  And then, "This isn't about Barton."

            Heero starts at her adept deduction.  He turns away from her, leaning against the transmission.  She watches him fold his grubby arms across his chest before taking the place next to him.

            "We're a pair, aren't we?" she wonders aloud.  "You're not the only one who can't let go of the past, Heero.  Or the secrets."

            She feels Heero's gaze shift to her.

            "You tell yourself that if you're the only one who knows, then it didn't really happen..."

            "And it can't really affect you," he finishes.  Their eyes meet for a long, honest moment.  Both of them know better than to ask after those secrets.  They also know better than to offer to share them.  There are some things in a person's life that should be kept close.  Heero and Yokaze understand this.

            He tells her, "Just...  I just... I want you to be happy."

            "I know," she says simply.  "Thank you."

            Heero takes a deep breath.  Squinting at something on the wall opposite them, he asks, "Do you care for him?"

            She glances at his profile, aware that he is referring to Trowa.  "You really want to know?"

            He nods once.

            She admits, "Yeah.  I care."

            "It'll work out," he predicts.

            Yokaze's grin is lopsided and half-hearted.  She thinks of the diskette in her jeans' pocket.  Thinks of all the secrets she's sheltering.  She is not as sure about that declaration as Heero, but she says, "My brother, the psychic."

            A smile forces its way onto Heero's face.  "Yeah, I'm picking up some seriously mystic vibes," he intones flatly.

            With a very unladylike snort, Yokaze bumps his shoulder with hers.  Heero looks at her and returns the gesture.

            After a comfortable moment, Heero says, "Doesn't it bother you?  The possibility?"

            Yokaze's attention is immediate and undivided.  Had he guessed?  But how could he?  "The possibility of what?"

            He shrugs, attempting to downplay the importance of the issue.  "That one day something will set you off.  That someone you care about will get hurt."

            She exhales the breath she'd been unconsciously holding.  "Or worse?" she speculates.  "That someone who matters to me will see how ugly and scarred I really am?"

            Heero stares at her surprised that she understands so well.  He tells her, "Not you.  You're not... those things."

            "I am _especially_ all of those things," she replies, her tone light.  She traces the fine line of raised flesh across her right cheek.  "Some of them are even visible."

            At a loss for words, Heero simply watches her.  She offers him a small, wry smile.  Heero responds by silently pulling her into his arms and pressing his left cheek to hers.  Yokaze's eyes slide shut at the reminder of the first gift she could recall... and the totality of what the organization had stolen from her.  Had it not been for _him_ she would still have Heero's scar today.  Had it not been for _him_ she would not fear her past and dread her future.

            Nearly six years after the fact and it is still unfinished.  She is still haunted by the memory of _him_ and the unthinkable possibility...  After all, she had not actually seen him die.  The one thing her soul requires to heal had been the one thing she'd been denied.  She tells herself that he is dead.  Could not have possibly survived the explosion she'd orchestrated.  But she remembers the diskette in her pocket, recalls her suspicious, and wonders...

**.**

**~End of Chapter 9~**


	11. Chapter 10: Saving the Day

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 10: Saving the Day**

**.**

            **He shivers** even though L2 has bestowed upon its citizens a warm night.  Wrapping his arms around himself, he stares up at the sparkling dome and waits.  He hears voices coming from the spaceport hangar and shrinks further back into the shadows.  Tucking his thin, bruised legs closer to his body, the diminutive figure huddles among the massive shipping containers.  Something inside of him—a voice—tells him that it's not safe to move yet.

            _Wait,_ it whispers.

            He obeys and watches the pilots and mechanics closing up the hangar for the night.  He knows he must not be seen.  The tremors rattling his body amplify.  A single tear forms at the corner of his eye.

            _You must find the entrance,_ The Voice whispers, commands.

            He shakes his head.  He does not like The Voice.  He vaguely remembers a time when the only presence in his head had been his own thoughts.  "Go away," he whispers.

            _You _will_ find the entrance,_ it counters.

            "I don't want to."

            _You_ _will do as I say or you will be punished._

            He shudders uncontrollably at the threat.

            _You remember the punishments, don't you?_

            Mute, he nods.  The tear clinging to his lashes silently spills onto his cheek.  He does not feel it.

            _You don't want to be punished again, do you?_

            A small whimper escapes his throat.  "N-no... no..."

            _Then you will find the entrance._

            He nods.  Panting, he promises, "Okay.  Okay.  I'll do it."

            _Good boy,_ it says silkily.

            He shivers.  He hates The Voice.  He hates the way it slithers through his mind, constantly moving.  Sometimes he imagines it is a great, slimy worm curling around his brain and peeking out at the world through his ears.  He has tried ignoring it.  Has tried complying with it.  It makes no difference.  It is always there, telling him what to do.  If there is an escape, he has yet to find it.

            He closes his eyes for a moment, gathering his strength.  Leaning away from the shadows, he scans the silent yard.  It is deserted.

            _Go._

            His hands fist at his sides.  He does not want to obey but he does not want to be punished, either.

            _Go now!_

            In the darkness of the pleasant June night, a small figure scuttles across the abandoned lot toward its objective.

**.**

            **With precision motions,** Heero attacks the mound of dirty dishes.  Technically, it is Duo's turn to wash them, but he finds he cannot stand the sight of them any longer.  And he is also out of clean coffee cups.

            He pulls out a mug from the steaming foam in the sink and scrubs it vigorously.  It is only when he is rinsing it off that he reads the handful of words scribbled across its surface: _Save oxygen.  Shut up._  The corner of Heero's mouth twitches as he recalls receiving the item.  A gag gift from Duo shortly after he'd moved in.

            _Holding up the mug, Heero looks expectantly at Duo who grins unabashedly in reply._

_            "It's your own personal motto," he says.  "On consumer merchandise, no less.  Who'd a thunk it?"_

            The sound of a door opening behind him returns Heero to the present.  Placing the clean mug in the dish drainer, he moves on to the next item.

            Fresh from the shower, Duo takes in the fact that Heero is doing _his_ dishes.  Again.  Duo winces.  Now he's going to have to clean the bathroom twice in a row.  With an oh-well-shrug, Duo parts his damp hair with his fingers and starts braiding.  The habit is so ingrained that Duo's mind wanders freely... over Heero.

            He knows that Heero still hasn't forgiven him for whatever unspeakable acts Duo had performed at the party.  For the thousandth time, Duo wishes he could remember what he'd done or said.  He'd tried to pry the information out of Heero on several occasions but the man's larynx had apparently left the building, so to speak.  He has thought about asking Taki, but knows that if something truly embarrassing had happened at the party she would have mentioned it to him already.  Sighing, Duo wonders if he and Heero's friendship is irreparably damaged.

            Duo's run out of strategies for ferreting out the truth and is getting frustrated.  _If he's this tense now, just what would he do if I waltzed over there and grabbed his ass?_  Duo grins at the thought.  And Heero _does_ look pretty damn good in that black T-shirt and old jeans...

            Heero can feel Duo's gaze on him.  Setting the water glass in his hand down with more force than necessary, he flashes a glare over his shoulder.

            Duo grins.  "Sorry about the dishes, man," he says.  He reaches the end of his hair and starts wrapping the tip with a hair band.  Wandering over to the counter, he asks, "What can I do to make it up to you?"

            Heero drops the soapy dish in his hands.  It lands in the full sink, splashing sudsy water all over the counter and him.  On any other occasion, Duo would be sniggering.  But tonight, he eyes Heero sharply as he passes him a kitchen towel.

            "You alright, Heero?  You've been dropping a lot of stuff lately.  Something on your mind?"

            Wiping at the dark spots on his shirt, Heero growls, "No."

            Duo's brows arc.  "That sounded like a 'Yes' to me."

            "Get your hearing checked," he suggests grumpily.

            Ignoring Heero's grouchiness, Duo jokes, "Maybe if we sang a song it would make you feel better."  Duo pretends not to see the second glare Heero throws at him.  "How about 'Puff the Magic Dragon'?"

             Heero's stare doesn't waver.

            "No, you're right," Duo continues, "that's Wufei's theme song.  How about 'Attack of the Killer Tomatoes'?  I suppose you've had enough of Christmas music for a while...?"

            As Duo chatters on, Heero discovers his attention wandering over Duo's snug, white T-shirt and boxer shorts.  Heero hears something about the Easter Bunny as his eyes skim the black print across Duo's chest.  It _would have_ read:

            _100% Home-grown, All-American, Prime Beef Sandwiched Between Two Soft, Lightly Toasted Kaiser Buns.  Go Ahead and Sink Your Teeth In.  Satisfaction Guaranteed._

            But Duo had crossed out "Beef" with a felt pen and had written "Boy" above it.  Heero stares at Duo's suggestive shirt, thinking that he should have learned by now not to look at Maxwell's clothes too closely.

            "Uh, Heero?  L2 to Heero," Duo says, waving a hand in front of Heero's gaze and startling him back to the conversation.

            "What?" he mutters.

            Duo frowns.  "I was just offering to teach you how to moonwalk like Michael Jackson."  He leans forward and gives Heero a once-over.  "What is up, man?  I think Yokaze's right; you do need to get laid.  Unless that spandex really did stop the circulation..."

            "I know something that'll stop _your _circulation," he growls back.  But instead of envisioning a weapon (say, a gun) held to Duo's temple, Heero imagines backing Duo up against the counter and covering his mouth with his own.

            Seeing the dark look on Heero's face, Duo feels his pulse leap in response.  He doubts he's ever seen Heero look so... dangerous.  "Okay," Duo says carefully.  "No moonwalk.  Hey!  How about I paint your toenails?  That'll cheer you up."

            An indistinct sound rumbles from the back of Heero's throat.

           "Great!" Duo says, interpreting the noise for an affirmative response.  "We'll put a movie on, I'll nuke some popcorn, grab some Peaches'N'Cream Super Sparkle polish, and meet you in the living room!  It's a date."

            Heero stares after Duo as he disappears into his room in search of the nail polish.  Only belatedly does he realize that there are words emblazoned across the back of Duo's shorts as well.

            _Bite me._

            Heero's hands fist in the soapy water as a vision of Duo bracketed against his bedroom door takes shape.  Heero imagines running his hands down Duo's sides to play with the waistband of those shorts as he leans in to taste the skin over Duo's throbbing jugular vein...

            Abandoning the dishes, Heero strides across the kitchen and down the hall to stand in the open doorway to Duo's room.  Silently, he watches Duo sorting through various drawers.  His gaze follows the way his damp braid sways with his movements.  Heero watches Duo and remembers the warm hand that had caressed his back, the muscular hips beneath his own, the taste of that mouth...

            Sensing a gaze on his back, Duo straightens and turns... encountering Heero framed in his doorway with that blacker-than-pitch look in his eyes.  Normally, Duo would say something flippant and carefree, but that look...  He stops a shiver from advancing up his spine.  Barely.

            Heero opens his mouth and says very quietly, "No nail polish."

            It takes Duo a moment before he sees the tiny sparkle of humor eclipse the darkness in those cobalt eyes.  He releases the breath he'd been holding and informs him, "You're really missing out, man."

            The cobalt eyes flicker down Duo's body before meeting his gaze again.  Heero replies, "I know.  But I have a reputation."

            "Yeah, we can't have the perfect soldier wearing Peaches'N'Cream nail polish," Duo muses, wondering if they're still talking about nail polish.  "But Deep Red Passion, on the other hand..."

            "Maybe later," Heero says, eyes on Duo's mouth.

            _Okay, now I _know_ we're not talking about nail polish anymore,_ Duo thinks.  He stands there returning Heero's stare, feeling that a bit of vitally important information is just beyond his grasp.

            Then Heero steps back into the hall and says, "Pick a movie," before disappearing back into the kitchen.  Duo is left in his chaotic room wondering what in the hell had just happened here.

**.**

            **On the edge** of awareness, Trowa turns toward the center of the bed.  His eyelashes flutter and a frown pulls at his brow.  The warm presence he had expected to encounter is absent.  He opens his eyes.  Yokaze's side of the bed is vacant.  He runs a palm over the sheets.  It is also cool to the touch.

            He sits up in bed and surveys the room's contents.  When he spots her shoes in their usual place, he relaxes marginally.  She hasn't gone off on one of her missions.  Not yet, anyway...

            As he pulls the covers back, he notices a small bit of paper pinned to her pillow.  He smiles at her reply.  Yesterday he'd taped a note to her laptop screen.  In response to the one he'd discovered in his pocket, he'd written: _You learn something new every day.  A good ride was I?_

            Her newest note reads: _I give you two palms up.  Squeeze.  Squeeze._

            Chuckling silently and feeling his face warm, he stands and heads for the living room.  He pauses and leans a shoulder against the hall when she comes into his view.  As he'd begun to suspect, she is behind her computer.  Trowa says nothing to disrupt her.  He listens to the tapping of her fingers on the keyboard and observes her dark eyes as they scan page after page of information.  After a minute or two, she finally leans back in her chair and looks up at him.

            "I was just about to go wake you up," she tells him.

            A brow arcs.  "I should have stayed in bed then."  The tenor of his voice suggests that he wouldn't have been alone in that bed for very long.

            She laughs.  "And miss breakfast with Quatre?"

            "He'd understand," Trowa assures her.  

            She tilts her head to the side, acquiescing to the point.  Yokaze types out a final command and reaches up to massage her neck.  Moving away from the hall, Trowa heads for the other side of her desk and brushes her hands out of the way replacing them with his own.  Yokaze leans back into the pressure against her neck and shoulders.

            "A mission?" he asks casually.

            "Mm," she replies vaguely.  "Maybe.  Maybe not."

            "Is that the data Luke sent?"

            "Yeah.  He was right, too.  It is really boring."

            Trowa is glad to hear it, but he does not tell her so.  Even though he knows the missions she orchestrates are important, perhaps even life-saving, he doesn't want to see her go.

            After a short pause, Yokaze leans her head back and looks up at him.  "We ought to go downstairs," she says half-heartedly.

            "We ought to," he agrees.  Neither he nor she move.  Then, slowly, Trowa bends down and brushes his mouth over hers.  Yokaze opens her mouth inviting him to _really_ kiss her.  He obliges willingly until her stomach asserts itself with a loud growl.  Trowa leans away reluctantly.

            "Well, let's feed you, then," he says.

            Reading the laughter in his eyes, Yokaze tells him with a lopsided grin, "I know.  I'm jinxed."

            A few minutes later, they enter Quatre's apartment.  Aside from George and Kathy, they are the first to arrive.

            Yokaze takes a seat across from Quatre and inquires, "So, what's the plan for today?  Where are we going?"

            "Are you sure you're not busy, Yokaze?" he replies.

            She shakes her head.

            Quatre smiles.  "Well, in that case, it's a surprise."  He watches Trowa pour two cups of coffee and take the seat beside Heero's sister.  "I heard you went on a date," Quatre says to them, remembering seeing them at L'Cour.

            Yokaze and Trowa offer him matching small grins in reply.

            "So, what was that about Seduction Pants yesterday?" Quatre asks adding sugar to his tea.

            Yokaze's grin widens.  Trowa, reluctantly, explains.  He stops the story, however, just before Duo's inspection of his underwear drawer.  He prefers that bit and the events that transpired afterward to be kept between himself, Yokaze, and Duo.  But Quatre is not disappointed by what Trowa does tell him.  Kathy and George also find the tale distinctly amusing.  Kathy has started narrating Yokaze's transformation the night of the Date when a knock on the door interrupts the part when Yokaze had accused Kathy of being a sadistic troll obsessed with tweezing her into the next life.

            Chuckling, Quatre moves to answer the summons at the door.  Heero and Duo enter and greet everyone before helping themselves to coffee.

            "Oh, Duo," Kathy says, reaching for the packet beside her plate, "you forgot this yesterday at breakfast."

            "Thanks, Kathy."  Duo accepts the packet of photos.  "Do you know I haven't even really looked at these yet?  When I got home and realized I'd forgotten them I could have kicked myself.  I promised Bisho I'd scan the best ones in and send them to her."  Taking his seat, he starts to shuffle through the stack.  Occasionally, he flashes one to the others at the table.

           Taking a seat on Duo's left, Heero sips his coffee and offers a nod in Trowa's direction by way of greeting.  Yokaze, noting this, feels a bit encouraged.  Quatre disappears into the kitchen and George fidgets in his seat.  Placing a hand on her husbands' Kathy silently assures him that Quatre does not need any help with breakfast.

            "So what are the mystic vibes telling you today, great Guru?" Yokaze asks Heero, deadpan.

            His mouth pulls into a small grin.  "Not a damn thing."  But the look in his eyes speaks volumes.

            Yokaze gets the impression that Heero has finally but tentatively accepted the situation between his sister and "Barton."  She picks up her coffee and indulges in a healthy sip.

            Beside Heero, Duo pulls out a photo.  "Hey, here's that one we got that sweet, little, old woman to take for us."

            Heero glances at the photo of himself and Duo.  At first glance, there is nothing strange about the image, but after Duo continues to stare at it in heavy silence for much longer than necessary Heero looks at it again.  After a moment, he sees what Duo must have spotted.  In the background stands Bisho and Quatre, arms locked around each other.  And the look on Quatre's face...

            The photograph trembles in Duo's fist.  Heero sets his coffee on the table, out of the way.

            "What is it?" Kathy asks, seeing Duo's shocked expression.

            At that moment, Quatre enters the room with a platter of meticulously sliced fruit.

            Duo looks up and _glares_ at his old friend.  In very precise English, Duo says, "You rotten _bastard!_"

            Quatre looks up, startled at the outburst.  He sees Duo is on the verge of leaping over the table and attacking him.  Platter held out before him, he manages, "Duo?  What is going on?"

            Brandishing the incriminating photo and shaking with rage, Duo growls, "What's going on with me?  What about what's going on between you and _my sister_, you _pedophile!_"

            Duo doesn't wait for an answer.  He launches himself over the table right at Quatre and the plate of fruit.  The three of them land with a crash on the pristine carpet.  Crouched over Quatre, Duo has his hands wrapped tightly around the other man's neck.

            "I trusted you!" Duo bellows.

            Quatre struggles to breathe, his hands around Duo's wrists.

            "You lousy, pathetic, son of a bitch!  How _dare_ you?!"

            Managing to get a gulp of air, Quatre croaks, "Duo..."

            "How long, huh?" Duo demands.

            "Duo..."

            "I'll kill you, you hear me, rich boy?  I'll freaking _kill you!_"

            Black spots start to dance at the edge of Quatre's vision.  He tries to talk, tries to explain the misunderstanding, but he is incapable of speech.  He can feel his grip around Duo's wrists loosening...

            And then, suddenly, he is gulping lungfulls of air and coughing.  Quatre struggles to sit up.  One hand massaging his abused throat and the other supporting his weight, he looks up and sees both Heero and Yokaze holding Duo back.  Two hands on his own shoulders alert him to Trowa's presence.  Out of the corner of his eye he can see George and Kathy attempting to rescue the fruit tray and restore order to the table.

            "Duo," Quatre forces out in a gravelly whisper.  "It's not like that."

            "Well, how the hell is it then?" he practically shouts, ignoring the two pairs of hands clenched in death-grips about his person.

            "Friends," he says coughing.  "Just friends.  We have Sunday brunch.  That's all.  That's all."

            "I bet you wish it were more than that, don't you, you perv?!"

            Quatre leans on Trowa, accepting any assistance he can get.  Slowly, he gets to his feet.  He shakes his head at Duo's accusation.  Weakly, he admits, "I...  I don't know what I want, Duo."

            Incensed, Duo struggles to break free from Yokaze's hold.  "I think I can guess what it is you want.  It's written all over your face!" he shouts, nodding to the photograph laying on the floor.

            Following Duo's gaze, he glances at the discarded image.  Suddenly, Quatre is tired—very tired—with all of the lies.  His hands fist at his sides as the brutal truth rises up from his heart.

            "Alright, fine!" Quatre shouts, surprising everyone in the room, including himself.  "I love her.  Are you happy now, Duo?  Is that what you wanted to hear?"

            Duo stares at Quatre, mouth agape.  But his shocked state quickly fades in the wake of a resurgence of raw aggression.

            Ignoring the thunderous expression on Duo's face, Quatre takes a step toward him.  His own face creased with the lines of anger and pain, he informs Duo, "Oh, and I know something else you'll want to hear.  How about the fact that I cannot bring myself to tell her?  Do you think I _want_ her to be hounded by the press?  Do you think I want all of her friends to abandon her?  Do you think I want her to know what it's like to go through life being _completely_ marooned from every other living soul by a sea of money?  Do you think I want her to spend her days in charity meetings and business negotiations when she could be having a _life?_"  Quatre glares into Duo's violet eyes and says firmly, "I _do_ know what I want.  I want to be a normal guy.  Then, in a few _years_ maybe...  But the fact is that I'm not a normal guy, that I have responsibilities, obligations, and a life that is not my own.  I _never_ want Bisho to know what that's like."  Quatre backs up a step, feeling raw all of a sudden.  Exposed.  His throat works to keep the pain down and to force the truth out.  "I want her to be happy."

            The silence that follows Quatre's confession is so complete that a pindrop on the plush carpet would have been audible.  In Heero and Yokaze's grasp, Duo finally relaxes.

            Everyone starts as a sharp rapport echoes through the room.  Sweeping past Trowa, Quatre opens the door to greet Taki and Wufei.  The arriving couple take in Quatre's reddened throat, disheveled hair, and stained clothes before settling their gaze on an equally battle scarred Duo.

            Taki turns to Wufei and glares.  "I _told you_ Quatre said 9:00 sharp!  Now just look at what I've missed!"

            Yokaze's mouth twitches at Taki's abominable bad luck.

            "Shall we eat, everyone?" Kathy ventures.

            Quatre sighs and runs a hand through his hair.  "How's the fruit, George?"

            "Sa-salvageable."

            He nods.  "All right."  With a deep breath, Quatre gathers his composure.  "Please have a seat Taki, Wufei."

            Haltingly, breakfast resumes.  To accompany the diminished selection of fruit, Quatre produces a covered tray of warm Belgian waffles.  Relative peace descends.

            "Waffles," Duo says, spearing one for himself.  "Bisho's favorite."

            Seating himself, Quatre replies automatically, "I know."

            Beside Heero, Duo tenses.  Sensing a second and equally violent round two approaching, Heero slides his hand over Duo's thigh and gives him a small squeeze.  Knife clenched in his fist, Duo blinks.  Disbelieving, he looks at Heero.  Taking a bite of melon and appearing somewhat interested in something Yokaze is saying, Heero strokes his palm up Duo's leg nearly all the way to the other man's crotch before removing his hand.

            "Duo?"

            Duo's head snaps around to Kathy.

            She inquires, "Would you like the syrup?"

            "Um, yeah.  Thanks."  Duo accepts the bottle of maple syrup and glances sidelong at Heero who continues acting as if nothing odd had just happened.

            For a solid minute, Quatre focuses on his plate.  Silently, he berates himself for exploding like he had.  He should have had more restraint.  And now the truth is unavoidable.  As is the pain.  Raising his eyes to the others and his first bite to his mouth, Quatre pauses.  His gaze moves over Duo's shoulder to his laptop.  He'd turned the sound off earlier, but the screen is blinking with a message.  Putting his fork down, Quatre excuses himself and heads for the desk in the connecting room.

            As soon as Quatre acknowledges the call, Rashid's anxious face fills the screen.  Quatre frowns.  "Is everything alright, Rashid?"

            "No, Master Quatre.  You need to leave L2 immediately."

            "What is it?  Has someone been hurt?  My sisters...?"

            Rashid shakes his head.  "No, Master Quatre.  I have just been informed that there has been a threat on L2.  We must get you out of there as soon as possible."

            "A threat?  What kind of threat?"

            Impatient, Rashid hurriedly explains, "An unidentified person has barricaded himself in the colony's environmental control room.  Police fear he will disable the oxygen or disengage the carbon dioxide filters.  They've been attempting to negotiate for over an hour with no luck.  The police may have to revert to force.  If that happens, the environmental computer could be considerably damaged..."

            "I get the point, Rashid.  This is, indeed, serious.  What are the colony officials doing to plan a mass evacuation?"

            Rashid shakes his head.  "I was not privy to that information, sir.  But I'm arranging to have a shuttle made available for you.  In thirty minutes, one hour at most, we'll have you out of there."

            Quatre nods.  "Right.    Make sure there are enough seats on that shuttle for eight more people, Rashid."

            "But...  Yes, Master Quatre."

            As the screen goes dark, he turns back to his guests who, by the looks on their faces, had heard every word.

            Taki is the first to speak.  "Someone has control of the colony's environmental systems?"

            Quatre nods.

            She swears.  "Well we can't just sit here doing nothing..."  Taki's voice trails off as she scans the pale faces of everyone at the table.  And then: "Where are Yokaze and Heero?"

            Trowa turns; the seat next to him is empty.  He starts for the door but Quatre manages to catch him before he steps out into the hall.

            "Don't go," he says.

            Trowa's voice is just as quiet and mellow as ever.  "She's gone to stop it."

            "We have to stay here and wait for word on the shuttle, Trowa," Quatre points out gently.

            A muscle along Trowa's jaw ticks.  "I'm not leaving her behind."

            "You won't have to.  She'll be back in time."

            From Trowa's other side, Duo snorts derisively.  "Get real, Quatre.  They've gone to save the goddamn day."  Glancing at Trowa, Duo says, "Make up your mind, Trowa.  Either lead the way or get out of mine."

            Trowa measures Duo's intent in silence before telling him, "Just let me get my laptop."

            For a long moment, Quatre looks from one face to the other.

            From Duo: "Well, Quatre?  What's it gonna be?  Stay or go?"

            Longing presses against Quatre's sternum, urging him to join the impromptu mission.  He quietly informs them, "Stay."

            With a look, Trowa silently slips out into the hall to fetch the equipment he believes he will need.

            Looking back into the room, Duo says, "What about you, Wu-man?"

            "Going," Taki replies for him, standing.  "Definitely going."

            Wufei opens his mouth to persuade Taki to stay behind and wait for Rashid's call, but the look on her face forestalls any such attempt.

            "Duo, wait," Quatre says as the other man moves toward the hall.  "Take this."

            Duo stares down at the small cellular phone that Quatre had just forced into his hand.  By way of explanation, Quatre tells him, "I'll call and let you know where the shuttle is when it's ready."

            Duo nods once in thanks.  

            "Ready?"  In Trowa's voice, the word is not a question.  Laptop case in one hand and leather carry-all over the opposite shoulder, he precedes everyone down the stairs.

            Quatre watches in silence as the room empties with the exception of himself, Kathy, and George.  He offers them a reassuring smile then, reluctantly, he moves away from the door.  He does not resume his seat, however.  Quatre paces into the next room.  He slows as he passes the only window with a view of the colony's maintenance and performance building.  For a moment, he simply stares blankly out over the rooftops wishing, longing, _aching_ for the freedom to be out there with his friends and saving the goddamn day.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 10~**


	12. Chapter 11: Jaspien

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 11: Jaspien**

**.**

            **Wufei glances** in the rearview mirror of the van they had "barrowed" from the academy.  Well, to be more precise, Taki had popped the locks and hotwired it.  Wufei tries not to dwell on the startling speed with which she'd done so.  Once inside the vehicle, Trowa had wasted no time in setting up his laptop and its various other components.  Now the sound of his fingertips rapidly striking the keys fills the expectant silence.

            With a restless breath, Wufei turns his attention to the police blockade at the end of the street.  Already a crowd of concerned and curious citizens had formed.  _That should make Maxwell's job easier,_ he muses.

            A pause in Trowa's typing brings Wufei's gaze to the mirror once more.  Without glancing up, Trowa informs him, "I'm in."

            Wufei checks his watch.  It had taken Trowa only eight and a half minutes to hack into the building's mainframe computer.  That had to be some kind of record.

            A movement next to him gets his attention.  In silence, he looks at Taki.  _She should not be here._  But she is.  And Wufei is fairly certain that there is nothing he can say that would persuade her to wait with Quatre.  He glances at the phone Duo had placed on the van's console.  There had been no word yet.  Hopefully the call wouldn't come until after Heero and Yokaze had gotten out of there.

            The van's side door slides open and Duo ducks inside, seating himself next to Trowa.

            "Well?" Wufei growls.

            Duo holds up the pilfered police radio.  "Got it."  He turns up the volume and begins adjusting the short antenna.  After a breathless moment, strange voices crackle over the channel.  Taki listens to the code with everyone else, wishing she knew what in the hell they were saying.  She looks at Wufei.  "What's going on?"

            Reluctantly, he translates, "They're pulling out the negotiators."

            The radio crackles again.

            She says, "And now?"

            The muscles along Wufei's jaw tense.  "They've given the armored unit the 'okay' to go in."

            "The armored unit?" she parrots.  "Is that...?"

            "The dudes with the serious artillery," Duo supplies, lips pulled into a thin line on his serious face.

            Taki looks from Duo to Wufei.  "Well, what are we going to do?"

            Rewrapping his hands around the steering wheel, Wufei informs her, "We wait."

            She looks back at Duo for confirmation thinking that, surely, Duo would have an alternative.  Meeting Taki's gaze, he nods to the man next to him and tells her, "It's up to Trowa now."

            Trowa ignores the sound of his name and continues typing.

            Taki leans back in her seat and stares straight ahead.  She imagines Yokaze somewhere in that building...  Imagines the police combat team sweeping through the halls, vicious-looking guns preceding them.  Suddenly, she wishes she hadn't insisted on coming.

**.**

            **The garage** had been on the way to the colony's maintenance and performance building.  Heero had insisted on stopping.  Fitting the tiny radio piece to her ear, Yokaze is glad that he had.  She tunes into the police frequency and listens in silence.  Beside her, also wearing a radio ear piece, Heero examines the ventilation grate.  He glances at her, wordlessly telling her to get back.  Yokaze slides further away into the shaft and watches him turn himself around so that his feet are against the metal grid.  He braces himself against the metal wall and kicks out.  The sound of the grate hitting the cement floor below reaches Yokaze's ears.

            Heero pulls his legs back, allowing room for her to slide forward and check the room.  Her eyes sweep the rows of crates and filing cabinets, encountering no resistance.  She leans back and nods once.  Sliding down the ventilation duct, Heero precedes her into the building's dreary basement.  He lands on the floor softly and moves to the left.  A moment later, Yokaze drops down next to him.

            In perfect silence, he moves along the left side of the room as she takes the right.  Unconsciously, she counts the seconds off in her mind as she searches for the door.  She squeezes past a rusty cabinet and feels the telltale ridge of a hinge under her fingertips.  Facing the door, she quickly pulls out the kit Heero had wordlessly given her and removes a thin tool.  She inserts it into the lock and works it carefully.

            She looks up as Heero slides up next to her.  His own search had not yielded another possible exit.  He waits beside the door until the soft, metallic click of the lock disengaging echoes in the dim room.  Yokaze replaces the kit and stands.  She looks at Heero.  In unison, they draw their firearms.  She wraps her hand around the doorknob and twists.  As the door swings open, Heero swiftly moves into the threshold, gun held before him.  He thoroughly checks the hall beyond before stepping into it.  Heero senses rather than hears Yokaze follow.

            They head for the stairwell.  The colony's environment control room is on the third floor.  A look passes between them as the radio speakers crackle in their ears.  The police are pulling back.  This is their chance.  Quickly, soundlessly, two shadows glide up the stairs.

**.**

            **His vision blurs** with burning tears.  Shaking, he presses his back into the corner and stares at the computer screen.

            "_To commence with system shutdown, please press 'Enter.'"_

            _Follow the instructions, boy._

            It's The Voice.

            He pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his thin arms around his bare legs.  He shakes his head in reply.  "I won't..." he whispers.  The sound of his own voice is pathetic compared to The Voice.

            _You will_...

            He presses his tearing eyes to his knees and takes deep breaths.  He tries not to think of how menacing The Voice sounds.  His punishment for disobeying is sure to be worse than ever before now.  He doesn't know how long he's been fighting it, doesn't remember what time he'd slipped into this room.  He barely remembers going to the computer, gazing at the keyboard, entering commands and codes he cannot recall.  He stares at the words _system shutdown_ and feels ice dance along his spine.  The only thing he is sure he remembers is pausing with his finger over the "Enter" button.  In that moment, he had gasped for breath as if awakening from a nightmare.  Eyes wide with fear, he had stumbled backward and landed here, in this cold corner.

            A sob tears through his small body.  Everything is a nightmare...

            _Complete your mission._

            "No."

            _You will do as I say._

            "No..."

            _You _will_ complete your mission._

He sobs.  "I hate you.  I hate you.  I hate you..."

            _But you need me._

            Resting his forehead against his knees, he shakes his head in denial.

            _You cannot imagine life without me._

            Silent tears tremble for a moment before falling.

            The Voice persists, _Complete your mission and everything will be alright._

            His body trembles with fatigue.  Unable to put up a token resistance, he unfolds from the corner and slowly gets to his feet.  The computer screen beckons.

            ..._press "Enter."_

_            Complete the mission._

"I hate you."  He stands before the keyboard, shivering.  The fear, the anger, the hate, the heat swirl within him like a sandstorm.  He imagines the storm scratching, scrubbing at his skin until it's peeled from his body.  Pictures muscles tearing, bones grinding, until at last his brain is exposed and The Voice is sucked out of him and into the fury of the storm.  But there is no storm to rescue him from The Voice.  He is alone.

            Feeling the hot tears scalding his face, he reaches for the "Enter" key.

            And then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees something slide under the door.  He turns toward it.  He crouches down and picks up the bit of paper from the floor and struggles to read the horrible penmanship.  Finally, he discerns four words:

            _My name is Yokaze._

            The Voice hisses dangerously, _This__ does not pertain to your mission.  _Complete_ your mission._

            He stares at the note for a long moment, a wish he dares not name trembling inside of him.  His gaze moves over the scribble that is the mysterious name.  He wonders if this is just part of his nightmare.  He stares, mesmerized by the small square of paper.

            _Your mission, boy!  Now!_

            He winces as pain explodes behind his eyes.  A strangled sound forces its way past his throat.  His agony drags on, forcing everything else from his consciousness.  When he opens his eyes, he discovers he is sprawled on the floor.  He does not remember falling.  He lays there for a moment, panting.

            At that moment, a small, black pen rolls beneath the door and stops inches away from his nose.  He stares at it for a long moment before his gaze moves over the computer screen.

            The Voice croons, _I didn't want to punish you.  I promise I won't do it again.  All you have to do is complete the mission.  And then everything will be alright.  I promise_...

**.**

            **A man's voice** issues from the radio, echoing in the van.  Again, Taki understands nothing that is said.  But she notices the strained look on Duo's face.  Trowa types faster.  Wufei's knuckles turn white as his hands tighten even more around the steering wheel.

            "What is it?" she asks, unsure she really wants to know.

            Through gritted teeth, Wufei tells her, "Tear gas."

            She stares at him in disbelief.

            "Where are they, Trowa?" Duo asks, leaning over to glance at the computer screen.

            "At the door," he says shortly.

            "Can you unlock—?"

            "I'm working on it."

            Taki watches Trowa and crosses her fingers.

**.**

            **_Tear gas._******

            She doesn't bother to look at Heero.  Yokaze is well aware that he'd heard it, too.  Next to her, he continues to try various combinations at the door's keypad.  She watches the gap beneath the door for a reply.  She estimates they have approximately forty-five seconds before the gas pours from the vents and floods the hall.  She glances up at the vent on the opposite wall.  She listens to Heero and examines the darkness on the other side of the grate with ominous foreboding.

            Heero focuses on his task.  He knows that Yokaze is attempting to communicate with the person within.  Personally, he feels she is only increasing the chances of the intruder doing considerable damage to the environmental system.  Scowling at the glowing keypad, he decides he's wasted enough time trying commonly used codes.  Pulling a slender tool from the kit strapped to his calf, he forces the top of the panel off, exposing the wires.

            Yokaze continues counting the seconds and listening for the sound of the lock release.  But a soft scrape at her feet draws her attention.  She kneels down and picks up a small square of paper.  In silence, she reads her own writing followed by a single word written in a trembling hand: _Jaspien_

            Wires wrapped around his fingers, Heero selects the two most likely wires.  He yanks them free and smoothes out the copper ends.  But before he can twist them together the tiny red light flickers off... and the green blinks on.  He steps back.

            Yokaze take his place.  Heero moves behind the door and wraps his hand around the door handle.  Yokaze meets Heero's gaze and nods once.  He opens the door.

            Gun held behind her, Yokaze leans around the corner.  "Jaspien?" she says softly.  "It's Yokaze."

            Heero watches her and listens for movement within the room.  And then Yokaze stiffens.  Instantly, Heero pivots onto the threshold.  Gun cocked and ready, he surveys the room.  Yokaze is moving an instant before Heero sees it: the tiny child curled into a fetal position on the cold floor.

            Yokaze says the boy's name again but receives no reply.  He stares blankly into space as sweat and tears mingle on his face.  His body jerks with each breath he manages to suck in.  She swipes her hand across the floor, sending the pen clattering to the other side of the room.  The click of her gun's safety sliding back into place gets Heero's attention.  She tosses him the gun and gingerly moves to the other side of the shivering body.

            Heero advances on the computer and reads the single sentence.  Setting both guns down, he gets to work unraveling the commands.  Yokaze, meanwhile, has succeeded in wrapping her arms around the boy, holding him firmly and expertly.

            Finally having evaded the system shutdown message, Heero quickly scans the code that had been entered into the system before erasing it.  Beside him, Yokaze gets to her feet, the child in her arms.

            "Heero," she says.

            He follows her gaze to the vent near the ceiling and hears it.  The hissing of the gas.

**.**

            "**God dammit!"** Duo shouts, tossing the radio to the floor.  He turns toward the door and slides it open.

            "Maxwell!  Get back here!" Wufei commands.

            Furious, he looks back at the other man.  "I'm not just going to sit here, man!"

            "There's nothing else you can do!  They've already dropped the gas, Maxwell!"

            They glare at each other in silence broken only by Trowa's continuous typing.  After a long, tense moment, Duo sits down in the doorway and runs his hand through his unruly bangs.

            "Well, that's it, then," he says, hating the taste of those words on his tongue.

            For the first time, Trowa looks up from his laptop.  "Not quite," he differs, his green eyes locked on the building ahead of them.  An instant later a variety of alarm sirens burst shrilly into the air.

            "What did you do?" Duo demands.

            Utterly devoid of expression, Trowa informs him, "Burglar alarm, fire alarm, sprinklers, and reverse fan."

            He nods toward the roof of the building.  Taki and Wufei turn around and face forward.  Duo stands and takes a few steps away from the van.

            "Holy shit," Duo mutters, gazing at the growing plume of toxic smoke issuing from the building's air conditioning unit.

            With everyone's attention diverted and the majority of the threat avoided, Trowa allows himself a deep breath.  He notices that his hands are shaking.

            From the floor of the van, the radio crackles once more.  And this time, even Taki can understand it.

            "We're at our objective.  No suspects in sight."

            Wufei and Taki share wide grins over the discarded radio.  Duo's whoop of joy echoes off of the buildings in the street.  Only Trowa is unaffected.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 11~**


	13. Chapter 12: Apologies

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 12: Apologies**

**.**

            **Heero opens** up the compartment beneath the bike's seat and extracts the first aid kit.

            "Quatre?  It's Yokaze.  It's all under control."

            Aware of how strange it would look to a passerby to see a man holding a gun, a woman speaking on a phone, and a terrified, shivering child together in the street, he quickly selects a medicated bandage and passes it to Yokaze.

            "We're heading back now."

            Easily, she maneuvers the boy so that she can place the cloth bandage over his heart.  Her hand rubs it, stimulating the blood vessels in the child's skin to accept the mild sedative.

            "The others?" she echoes with a frown.  After a moment of listening to Quatre's explanation, she mutters, "Oh, bugger.  Yeah, let them know.  Thanks."

            Heero watches as the boy's head slowly lowers to Yokaze's shoulder and his entire body relaxes into unconsciousness.

            As Yokaze disconnects the call, Heero indicates the way she handles the child in her arms and tells her, "You're good at that."

            She replies cryptically, "I've had a lot of practice."

            Assuming she is referring to her missions, Heero doesn't bother to ask.  "What did Quatre say?"

            Yokaze says shortly, "We had help."

            "Help?"

            She explains that Duo, Trowa, Wufei, and Taki had barrowed a school van and are currently camped out at the edge of the crowd surrounding the colony's M&P Building.

            Remembering the way the door had opened before Heero had finished re-wiring it, he grunts.  "Barton."

            She looks at him, her expression asking him to elaborate.

            "The lock, the alarms, the reverse fans."

            She nods and thinks that if Trowa had hacked into the building's main frame, he would have seen nearly everything that had transpired.  Would have seen all of the risks they had taken.  Would know how close they'd come to inhaling the tear gas.  And he probably wouldn't be very happy about it.

            Heero removes the radio ear piece, gun holster, and burglary kit from his person and begins to store them carefully in the bike's under-seat compartment.  Yokaze unwraps the radio from around her ear and hands it to her brother.

            "Heero," she says, traces of exasperation in her voice.  "It's been... what?  More than _seven years_ since the war?  What are you still doing with this stuff?"

            He takes the empty gun holster and fits her discarded firearm into it before placing it under the seat.  Of all the people he knows, Heero would have thought Yokaze would be the most understanding of his modest arsenal.  "Holding onto it for days like today," he mutters darkly.

            She stares at him for a long moment before a silent chuckle breaks free.  "No, no, no," she says, battling with her laughter.  "What I _meant_ was: What are you doing with this positively _ancient_ equipment?  This stuff is absolutely decrepit."

            Heero's expression softens.  He smiles.

            She continues, "You don't even have the frequency scrambler microchip updates for this remote comm. system..."

            Heero laughs, feeling like an idiot.  Of course Yokaze would understand why he keeps these things.  He unclips the kit from her calf seeing as how she is still holding Jaspien and it would be quite impossible for her to remove it herself.  Standing, he pauses before storing the second burglary kit.

            "Thank you," he says.

            She knows he is referring to her assistance today.  She also knows how hard this is for him to say.  Heero has rarely worked with a partner on a mission.  As has she.  Yokaze nods.

            Heero slides onto his sister's bike and turns the key in the ignition.  "Let's head back," he says.

            "To the garage first," Yokaze clarifies.

            Heero glances over his shoulder at her before pointing the bike in the direction of his home.  Holding on tight, Yokaze feels Jaspien's fine, pale hair whip at her scarred cheek.  And she remembers another time, another trembling child, another froth of hair against her face.

**.**

            **What an absolute** _pooch-screw_ of a day.

            Bisho closes the door behind her and stares at her tiny, efficiency apartment.  Initially, she'd feared this internship would turn into her making coffee and fetching lunch for the engineers and construction personnel.  Now she almost wishes it _was._

            _"Look, Bisho.  These designs are good.  They comply with standard colony construction protocols_..._"_

_            "But?"_

_            "But we've had a request from the top.  They want the ventilation system redesigned to these parameters."_

_            "But a small child couldn't fit through these ducts!  How are we supposed to repair fans and wire work and—"_

_            "That's your job.  Let me know what you've got by Wednesday."_

            Sitting down in the one chair in her tiny apartment, Bisho continues her objection in silence, _And__ it's completely unsafe, not to mention against the international colony construction guidelines._

            Not for the first time since arriving, Bisho thinks there is something strange about this colony.  And not just that it's privately financed.  For one thing, Althea and the other doctors all work in the same building.  Although that could be explained away: perhaps they are simply waiting for their other facilities to be completed...  But why is it that every time Bisho has tried to contact Althea, Quatre's sister is never available?  In fact, she hasn't managed to see her once since arriving.  But what she _has_ managed to see are the shuttles with the children.  Children that disappear into the same building as the doctors...

            With heavy sigh, she turns in her chair.  Resting her arms and chin on the back, her violet gaze traverses the room to the pair of photographs on the bureau next to her bed.  The first is one of her and her brother.  She returns Duo's grin and automatically feels a bit better.  But, after only a moment, her gaze strays to the second and is riveted.  She stares at the photo of the tall, blond man with the bright smile and sad eyes.

            _Quatre._

            She lets her breath out in a long, slow sigh.  She is used to missing Duo.  She is not used to missing Quatre.

            Bisho thinks for the thousandth time that she should have managed to tell him.  But even now the words are hard to find.  And staring into those blue, blue eyes just flat out makes thinking impossible.  Who knew that the young man who had comforted her on L2 so many years ago would become so important to her?

            "I'm sorry, Quatre," she tells his image.  "I wanted to ask you to come with me, but I just couldn't find the words."

            Besides, how could she explain to him what it was like for her to go and visit him in his grand house every week, to see him shut up and on display like an animal at the zoo?  How could she accurately describe the need she feels to help him escape his cage?  Bisho had never been very good at words, so she had resorted to humor.  And when Quatre laughed she thought that perhaps he forgot about his life sentence.  So she had attempted to charm him, lighten his spirit, but always he returned to the cage at the end of the day.

            She worries about him.  Worries that the cage is growing far too small.  Worries that he will not attempt to escape it.

            She stares into his eyes, into the sadness that springs from resignation.  Bisho thinks she knows why he is so sad sometimes, but does not realize how much it has to do with her.  She sits in her only chair and watches the smiling face and thinks how much Quatre deserves to be happy.  And doesn't realize how very much he treasures the laughter she brings out in him.  She gazes at the image of a lost soul, not knowing she is just as lost herself.

**.**

            **Duo lets himself** into the house and kicks his boots off.

            "Hey, Heero!  You back yet?"

            Silence.

            Duo forces himself to shrug.  He remembers Quatre's call.  Yokaze had said everything had been under control.  If Heero isn't here now, he will be shortly.  He isn't sitting in a jail cell or lying in a pool of blood.  The latter thought releases a chill that stirs the skin on Duo's arms.  He rubs at the gooseflesh and wanders into the house.  

As he reaches the hall and begins to turn toward his room, he pauses.  Glancing over his shoulder, Duo notes that the door to the spare room is open.  With a frown, he approaches it and glances inside.

            "Heero?"

            The man in question is checking under the bed.  He straightens and locks gazes with Duo.  Mute, he puts a forefinger to his lips in a gesture for silence.  From the doorway, Duo watches Heero scour the room picking up thinks like pencils, pens, and wire coat hangers.  When at last Heero steps out into the hall Duo can contain his curiosity no longer.

            "What's going on?" he asks quietly.  He eyes the fistful of sharp-ish objects Heero is holding.

            Heero nods toward the kitchen.  Duo watches his friend throw the smaller items in his hand into the utility drawer.  At last, Heero asks, "What did you hear from the police radio?"

            Duo frowns.  "How did you know—?"

            Heero gives him a wry look.

            "Okay.  Yeah.  I was listening.  They said no suspects were found."

            Heero nods and replies, "Yokaze and I found one."

            Duo's brows arc.  "And?"

            "He's asleep in the guestroom."

            For a moment, Duo simply stares at Heero.  And then:  "_Well?_  Are you going to elaborate?"

            "Have a seat."

            Reluctantly, Duo sits.

            Heero starts from the beginning and describes the operation.  Duo listens in complete silence.  When Heero tells him about the work done to the environmental computer system, something flickers in Duo's eyes.  He glances at the wire hangers on the kitchen counter and comprehension dawns in its entirety.  His wide eyes return to Heero.

            Into the silence, Duo says, "He's been trained.  Jesus.  A kid."

            Heero nods.

            "How old is he?"

            "Maybe six years old."

            On the tabletop, Duo's hands fist.

            "His name is Jaspien and he's... not well."

            Duo looks expectantly at Heero.

            "When we entered the room, he was having a... seizure on the floor.  It's the training.  Jaspien tried to communicate with Yokaze before we entered.  According to her, he was being punished for not following orders."

            "What orders?"

            Heero looks at Duo.  "The ones that he's been programmed with."

            "How can you be sure the kid's not just an epileptic?"

            Very quietly, Heero replies, "We're sure."

            "But—"

            Heero has no intention of elaborating on what his sister had told him.  Has no intention of sharing that with another living soul, so he says, "Duo, will you just shut your mouth and trust me?"

            Slowly, Duo nods.  He cannot stop the sting Heero's words provoke.  Of course he trusts Heero.  He simply doesn't understand...  He clears his throat.  "Why is he here?  Shouldn't Yokaze be taking care of him?  I mean, he tried to communicate with her, right?"

            Looking very put-out, Heero explains, "Yokaze doesn't have a spare room, it's not a good idea to have him around other children right now, and..."

            "And...?"

            The muscles along his jaw tense.  "And she thinks I'm the one who should help him."

            "Help him... what?"

            Not liking this conversation remotely, Heero grudgingly concludes, "Find his way back to sanity."

            Duo leans back in his chair and lets out a long breath.  "Damn."  For a moment, he simply digests Heero's words.  And then he chances to look up just as Heero turns away to stare out the window above the sink.  The look on his face...  Duo rises and crosses the linoleum floor.  Not knowing what to say to ease the heartache on Heero's face, Duo places a hand on his shoulder.

            Heero tenses immediately, but Duo does not step away.

            Suddenly finding his voice, Duo offers, "I'll help."

            Letting out a heavy breath, Heero turns.  And feels himself being pulled into a tight embrace.  For a moment, he cannot move.  He can feel Duo's arms around him, can smell the shampoo from his hair, can remember...

            "I'm sorry," Duo tells him.  "Whatever I did the night of the party to piss you off...  I'm really sorry, Heero."

            Heero feels his own arms wrapping around Duo's waist.  "I...  I'm not... pissed off," Heero replies quietly.  His face turns ever so slightly, just until his cheek is resting against Duo's ear.  He feels the fabric of Duo's T-shirt under his fingers and tries to keep his hands still, utterly still.

            Frowning, Duo pulls back just far enough to look into Heero's eyes.  "Well, if you're not mad at me, then what _is_ wrong, man?  You haven't been this tense since... since we thought Yokaze was... you know."

            The truth is so close.  The words dance on the tip of his tongue: _You kissed me, Duo_..._ and I think I_..._ liked it_...  But Heero cannot utter them.  He says, "Yokaze is in love with Trowa.  It's like... losing her all over again."

            Compassion fills Duo's eyes.  "How can you say that after you two totally kicked ass today?"  Heero's expression does not change.  Duo leans forward again, tightening his arms around Heero.  "But, hey.  You've still got me," he says, attempting to get a chuckle out of him.  Or to at least get him to think about something other than what is bothering him.

            Against Duo's back, Heero's hands fist in the fabric of his shirt.  Heero leans back against the counter in order to see Duo's face.  He tries to keep his voice level as his hips inadvertently brush against Duo's.  "Do I?"

            Duo stares into those dark, dark eyes and feels his pulse leap in response.  He forces a smile.  "Sure, man.  Always."

            Heero says nothing.

            Feeling suddenly uncomfortable with this situation, Duo steps away.  Spying his coat draped over the nearest chair, he shrugs into it.  "I'm going to town.  If we're gonna have a kid in the house, we'll need some serious, teeth-rotting goodies around."  Adjusting the collar of his jacket, Duo glances at Heero.  "You need anything?"

            Heero simply stares at Duo for a moment before forcing himself to shake his head.

            With a nod, Duo opens the door and calls over his shoulder, "Back in a flash."

            Heero doesn't move from his place against the counter as the door slams shut.  Still feeling Duo's heat on his hands, Heero curls them into fists.  Another ghost sensation to add to his memories.

**.**

            **He can hear her** in the hall.  Speaking to Taki.

            He waits.

            In the silence of their apartment, Trowa leans against the wall behind the door, arms folded, fists clenched.  The pressure within his chest is equalized by the pressure of his arms.  In the past two hours and seven minutes, he has been unable to sort through the chaos surrounding his heart.

            He wonders if she has any idea of how her actions today have affected him.  But how can she when even he is unsure himself?  He stares at the clock.

            What will he say when she finally comes through that door?  What will he do?  He does not know.  And, for the first time, he feels a fear that will not be banished into the shadow of his soul.  And she is the cause of it.

            He is angry with her.

            But the anger cannot compare to the other, heavier emotions he strains to contain.

            Two hours.  Eight minutes.

            The conversation outside ceases.  A board creaks on the other side of the door.  Trowa's green eyes focus on the doorknob as it begins to rotate.  A fine tremor rattles out from his chest.

            The door opens and Yokaze enters.  He recognizes the sound of her boots on the carpet.  He steps away from the wall and waits.

            She turns to close the door, unknowingly presenting him with her back.  As she releases the knob, he reaches out and watches his fingers wrap around her wrist.  In the next instant, he has trapped her in his arms.  He can feel her palms against his chest, can smell her skin.  He tightens his arms around her, trying to keep the swirling tangle of emotion contained.  He knows he must be forcing the breath out of her, but she does not protest.  He aches to make her promise not to do that again.  He had been so angry, felt so helpless, so... afraid.  The unspoken words burn in his throat.

            Her arms slowly circle his waist and her breath feathers against his collarbone.  "I'm sorry," she tells him.

            So is he.  So sorry that this is the way of her life.  Missions and danger and uncertainty.  Until this moment, Trowa had never really considered what it would mean to care for Yokaze.  Had never really let himself see the truth: there would always be a mission.  She would never really be completely safe.

            And he cannot ask her to stop.

            Neither can he stop himself from caring.

            So he accepts the pain, for there is no other alternative.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 12~**


	14. Chapter 13: Hero Worship

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 13: Hero Worship**

**.**

            **A shuddering breath** escapes his lips as consciousness creeps closer.  His eyelashes flutter once.

            And then: _Do not move._

            The Voice.

            Jaspien forces his breathing to remain slow and steady as his senses absorb what information he can gain regarding his surroundings.  A bed.  A comfortable one.  Immediately he knows he is not in a familiar place.  Beneath the linens, he moves his hands and feet just enough to be sure he is not restrained.  Jaspien is puzzled.  Where is he?  How had he arrived here?  He strains to remember.

            _"To commence with system shutdown, please press 'Enter.'"_

Ah, yes, the mission.  Had he completed it?  He cannot remember.  The Voice does not offer any information.

            After several long moments, Jaspien decides he must be alone.  He can hear nothing, not even street traffic.  He opens his eyes.  His gaze sweeps around the room coming to rest on a pair of cobalt eyes.  His eyelids twitch once in surprise.  He gazes silently at the man sitting beside his bed, a man who is strangely familiar.

            From somewhere deep in his brain, a name rises to the surface.  Jaspien whispers, "Yokaze?"

            The man shakes his head.  "My name is Heero.  Yokaze is my sister.  We found you yesterday."

            "Yesterday..." Jaspien wonders aloud.  All of the days had long since begun to blend together.  "My mission?"

            Heero nods.  "It's been taken care of."

            Jaspien relaxes a bit.  He cannot recall the details of his mission, but he knows it had been important.  The Voice would be angry if he hadn't completed it.  He looks up at the man with cobalt eyes.  Heero.  Or is it Hero?  Jaspien's brows knit together as he considers this.  Is this man a hero?  Jaspien says, "Where am I?"

            "Colony L2," the hero tells him.  "In my house.  I live here with a friend and his sister."

            Jaspien stares at him and then, without thinking, blurts out, "Are you really a hero?"

            "That's my name," the man reassures him.

            "I wish I were a hero.  Then I could defeat him."

            "Who?" the hero asks.

            Jaspien looks at the man, wary.  Their eyes meet.  The hero waits.  But Jaspien says nothing.  The Voice is listening.  He can feel it.  His hands tighten on the linens.

            "Are you hungry?"

            Slowly, Jaspien nods.

            "Come on, then."

            "Where are we going?"

            The hero tells him, "Just down the hall.  To the kitchen."

            Jaspien watches him rise from his chair.  The hero is tall and strong-looking.  Jaspien wishes he looked like that.  The hero opens the door to the room and looks over his shoulder.

            "Are you coming?"

            Jaspien carefully pulls back the covers and stands up.  He walks over to the hero.  The tall man leads the way into the hall.  It's six paces to the kitchen; Jaspien counts them.  He sees one door and one window: two possible escape routes.

            "What do you want to eat?"

            Jaspien shrugs.

            "What do you like?"

            Jaspien stares at the hero.  From that same mysterious place in his brain, a word shimmers up.  Jaspien grasps it.  "Pizza."

            The hero opens the freezer door and examines the shelves with narrowed eyes.  He reaches in and pulls out a large, thin box.  "Pepperoni?" he asks.

            Jaspien shrugs again.

            The hero nods.  "Well, if you don't like them you can pick them off."

            Jaspien watches as the man turns on the oven and prepares the pepperoni pizza for baking.  When the hero turns around, he frowns at Jaspien.  He takes a step toward the table a pulls out a chair.

            "Sit down," he tells him.  As Jaspien approaches the chair, the hero asks, "Do you want water, milk, or juice?"

            "Juice," Jaspien says, struggling into the chair.  The hero pours him a glass of orange juice and places it in front of him on the table.  Jaspien watches as the hero moves around the kitchen, shoveling coffee grounds into a machine and adding water.  The hero doesn't talk as he works.  Jaspien likes that.  Heroes are always strong and silent.  He is not sure how he knows this, he simply does.  Jaspien sits at the table and wonders how the man got to be a hero.  Wonders if he knows how to get rid of The Voice.  Hopes he will show Jaspien how.

**.**

            **"Tea or coffee,** Trowa?"

            Trowa doesn't glance away from the window as he replies, "Either is fine."  His gaze follows Yokaze's figure as she descends the front steps of the academy and swings onto her motorbike. 

            Quatre pours a cup of coffee from the pot and approaches his friend.  He studies Trowa's stoic figure with a frown.  Only yesterday morning he'd been so relaxed, had even smiled at Kathy's story.  But today he has more in common with the old Trowa rather than the Trowa with a sister, a home, good friends, and a lover.

            "You look like you're waiting for a mission to come in," Quatre observes, offering the cup.  He catches a glimpse of Yokaze's motorbike as it speeds off in the direction of Maxwell Mechanics.

            "She is," Trowa replies, indicating Yokaze with a nod in the direction of Duo's garage.

            "It still hasn't ended for her, has it?  The war?" Quatre muses.  "Perhaps she doesn't realize how much you need her or she wouldn't go looking for a day to save."

            Trowa stares at Quatre.  "I don't need—"

            "I saw the two of you the other day," Quatre interrupts, his voice light.  "When you went out to L'Cour."

            Trowa continues studying Quatre, thinking how formidable his friend has become, and how astute.  

            "I had reservations that night."

            "I didn't see you," Trowa says.

            Quatre smiles.  "Well, if I'd had a date wearing the dress Yokaze'd had on, I wouldn't have noticed very much, either.  Other than her, that is."

            Trowa's expression softens as the memory of that evening comes back to him.

            "You two have amazing chemistry, Trowa.  Whenever I glanced at your table it was like seeing a dance.  I'm really happy for you."

            Lifting his cup, Trowa stares into its murky depths before taking a sip.  "I know Heero isn't very happy about it.  I'm a little surprised he hasn't shot me yet."

            Startled, Quatre says, "What do you mean?  You and Heero have always gotten along well..."

            "It's different when someone you love is involved."  Trowa glances at Quatre.  "Duo did try to kill you yesterday, did he not?"

            Quatre inclines his head in agreement.  "Point taken."

            "At least he hadn't been packing," Trowa comments.

            "At least I hadn't fallen for Yokaze or you _would have_ shot me."

            Trowa chuckles.  "It was near thing at that party."

            Quatre remembers the dare he'd been forced to perform with Yokaze.  Blushing, he mutters, "Taki should have picked you."

            With an affectionate note in his voice, he says, "Heero would have killed me then and there with his bare hands."

            "Or he would have grabbed one of Yokaze's katanas."

            Trowa smiles, enjoying the slightly morbid conversation.  "I doubt he would have had that much foresight."

            "I wish someone had gotten a picture of Wufei chasing Duo around the room," Quatre says, the mention of a katana reminding him.

             The smile on Trowa's lips deepens as he recalls another camera... only this time Duo had been snapping the shots while he and Yokaze had been his subjects.  "I wonder when Duo's going to develop that roll of film he took the day before yesterday."

            Quatre's brow arcs.  "But you saw Taki's pajamas..."

            Trowa chuckles.

            Feeling like he's missing a crucial piece of information, Quatre shuts his mouth.  Trowa will tell him if he cares to.

            "I'd better check the first aid kit in the apartment," Trowa muses, smile still in place.

            "What for?"

            Trowa glances at Quatre.  "Because if Duo shows those photos to Heero he really _will_ shoot me."

            Quatre stares at his friend, at a loss.  And then it all comes together.  Duo orbiting near the dinning room doorway...  Taki wondering where Trowa and Yokaze had got to...  Duo with cardboard camera in hand...  "You two were...?  In the _hall?_"

            Trowa laughs.

            For the span of several seconds, Quatre stares at him, openmouthed.  And then, blinking, he finds his tongue.  "And with Heero and everyone in the next room...  Well...  There's nothing like living dangerously."

            At Quatre's last word, the humor quickly fades from Trowa's face.  He stares down at his coffee and says quietly, "Yesterday I was so angry with her."  Pause.  "I still am."

            "That's only natural, Trowa.  She did risk her life."

            Frowning darkly, Trowa's eyes focus on the cityscape once more.  "But I _know_ she can handle herself.  She's been trained.  Better than Heero was.  And possibly better than myself."  A muscle along his jaw clenches.  "I wasn't rational."

            "But she did need your help.  If you hadn't hacked into the mainframe and started the reverse fans..."  Quatre's voice trails off as he watches Trowa's scowl grow progressively darker.  Clearing his throat, Quatre offers, "Do you want me to tell you what I think is the cause of your, er, problem?"

            Trowa blinks at the sudden change in topic.  He catches sight of his friend's knowing grin.  And then his expression softens as he guesses Quatre's opinion.  "I think I know what you'd say."

            "And would I be right?" Quatre inquires eagerly.

            With a long, silent sigh, Trowa glances out the window one last time.  "Yeah, I think you would be."  His gaze becomes pensive as he wonders when and how Yokaze had managed to make him fall for her.  And then a haunting voice echoes up from his memory: _"_..._better than anything else that I've tried_..._"_  

            _That long ago, huh?_ he muses, grinning softly as his question is, in a mere moment, both asked and answered.

**.**

            **_What a moron._**

            Wufei sighs as he locates a third logical fallacy in the article before him.  _This is supposed to be an academic publication._  He glances up to the page header to confirm that this is, in fact, the prestigious Journal of Philosophy.  His gaze returns to the text.  He scowls at the man's laborious and redundant argument, itching to compose a rebuttal.  But Epistemology is not Wufei Chang's specialty.

            He returns to the table of contents.  There is nothing further that intrigues him in this issue.  He places the periodical on the desk and removes his reading glasses.  The colony "sun" light filters through the window nearby, calling to him.  Wufei transfers his gaze to the view and remembers a time when academicians had engaged in heated debates over _real_ issues.  But now they squabble over trifles.  Aesthetics.  Epistemology.  Neo-Darwinism.  While Wufei will gladly concede that these topics do have relevance, he is disappointed in their prominence among academicians.  Not so long ago, people had cared more about Free Will and Determinism, topics which Wufei has studied extensively.  Topics which are necessary for people to consider in a post-war world.

            With a soft sigh, he leans back in his chair, studying the unnatural silence of his dwelling.  Now that Taki is engrossed in a new project, he is finally allowed a bit of peace around here...

            Taki...  She is the epitome of irrationality.  She is spontaneous and foolish.  She never thinks before she speaks, never manages to keep her attention focused on mundane, ordinary tasks.  And, most surprising of all, he never would have guessed such a person could be worthy of his admiration let alone affection.

            She had been abandoned to learn to survive on the grimy streets like the countless other war orphans.  She had learned to take advantage of every opportunity, every weakness, every kindness for one does not step in the same river twice.  They are traits found in all survivors.  And she is certainly that.

            Personally, Wufei had never been able to content himself with the idea of simply surviving.  And for a while he had failed to understand her because he'd refused to see deeper than that.  But Taki had eventually taught him something very important with her unwavering loyalty, determination, and resourcefulness.  She'd shown him that his definition of strength had been insufficient and constraining.  According to his own beliefs, someone like Taki could _never_ be considered strong.  It had taken that look in her eyes—so many years ago during their heated argument in Yokaze's kitchen—to show him the truth.  Taki is strong not because of her sense of righteousness or justice or duty, but because of her refusal to allow others to dominate her.

            For months he'd wondered if it were really that easy: invincibility as the result of one's own indomitable sense of freedom.  Could a person really be strong simply by refusing to be affected and overwhelmed by the things out of one's control?  Could strength truly be defined by having such a mindset?  _Perhaps_, he had eventually conceded.

            Wufei considers his lover.  She had forced him to redefine many concepts he holds dear.  She had taught him much about himself, about the sort of life that he wants to lead.  From around his neck, Wufei lifts a small, silk pouch and gently loosens the ties.  Turning it upside down, he holds out his opposite palm to receive the single item it contains.  A slim ring tumbles into his hand.  He studies the meticulously detailed red-gold Chang Clan dragon inlaid along the white gold band.  It is a ring meant to bind a husband and wife.  He closes his fist around it until the metal warms to the same temperature as his skin.  Determination sharpens his expression.

            Someday, he will get Taki to wear this ring.  Someday.

**.**

            **Heero wipes** the back of his grease-smudged hand across his cheek, leaving behind a trail of grimy motor oil.

            "Hey, Heero, check this out!"

            Reluctantly, Heero glances up.  Duo stands in front of Jaspien, hands behind his back.  He still finds it amazing—Duo's easy manner with children.  Jaspien had bonded with him about three and a half seconds after meeting him.  Heero tells himself the emotion he feels is relief.  What does he know about kids anyway?  He'd never even been one himself, really.

            Kneeling, Duo asks, "Are you ready, Jas?"

            The blond head nods once.

            "O-okay, here we go."  From behind his back, Duo pulls out four small-ish oranges and starts juggling them.  For a moment, Jaspien watches intently before plucking them from the air, one by one, and juggling them himself.  Heero glances at Yokaze as Jaspien manages all four oranges with ease.

            "Alrighty, toss 'em back, Jas.  I gotta finish making lunch."

            One at a time, the oranges arc through the air towards Duo.  He catches them easily and spreads his arms wide.  "Ta da!  You have just witnessed the Great Jaspien and his Amazing Oranges."

            Yokaze claps.  She sends a look at Heero.  Reluctantly, he follows suit.  Performance over, Jaspien abandons Duo and makes a bee-line for Heero.  It is with no small amount of surprise that Heero discovers the small, pale face staring up at him expectantly.  For a long moment, Heero simply stares back, unsure of what the hopeful look on the boy's face is supposed to mean.  Next to him, he can hear Yokaze clearing her throat to cover up a chuckle at his discomfort.

            He tosses a glare in her direction as she says, "That was well done, Jaspien.  Not even _I_ can juggle four oranges.  I'm impressed."  She grins at the little boy and gives Heero a poke in the back with her rubber mallet.

            Yokaze's words had diverted Jaspien's attention but now the boy's eyes fix on Heero once more.  "Um, good job," Heero mutters.

            Behind him, he hears his sister snort with laughter.  She ignores the death-stare he sends in her direction.  "Can you juggle apples, too?" she asks the little boy.

            Jaspien nods.

            "What about chocolate donuts?  With sprinkles?"

            A tiny smile unfolds along his mouth.  He nods again.

            "What about big, fat, slimy frogs?"

            He giggles and shakes his head.

            Yokaze watches Jaspien turn large, admiring eyes on her brother.  Some mysterious sixth sense alerts her to Heero's increasing panic.  Time for a few words of wisdom, she decides.  "Hey, Jaspien, would you put this away for me?" she asks, handing him the rubber mallet.  "It goes in that blue drawer over there."

            As Jaspien scampers off, Yokaze silently laughs at her brother.  "Lighten the hell up," she whispers.  "He's a six-year-old, not a space leo suit."

            Heero glowers at her.  "I _know _how to deal with space leos."

            "Just treat him like a younger version of yourself," she says under her breath.

            Finished with his task, Jaspien returns to Heero's side, eyes wide with hope.  Heero glances from Jaspien to the socket wrench in his hand and thinks, _Ah, what the hell_...

            "Do you want to help me?"

            Jaspien nods vigorously.

            Heero points to the exposed mechanical guts of the small shuttle scooter.  "Have you ever seen one of these?"

            Jaspien shakes his head.

            "Well, we have to take it apart and fix it..."

            Yokaze busies herself with her part of the project, grinning as she listens to her stoic brother blabbering on about how to hold a socket wrench.  She bites her lower lip and wishes Duo would show up with a camera.

            "Whatcha laughing at Yokaze?"

            She glances at Jaspien over her shoulder.  He and her brother are staring at her with curiosity and hostility, respectively.  She says simply, "I'm just having so much fun fixing this thing."

            Heero's eyes flash at her over Jaspien's froth of fine hair.

            Jaspien turns back to the machine and fidgets to get Heero's attention.

            Turning away from his sister, Heero says, "Okay, now put the socket over the bolt..."  He shows Jaspien how to work the tool and watches the boy strain against the torque for a moment.  Then Heero wraps his arms around Jaspien from behind, placing his own hands on the wrench and giving Jaspien just enough help to budge the bolt.

            Surreptitiously, Yokaze studies her brother.  She wonders if she's imagining the presence of something different about him.  She wonders if he's guessed her true motivation for leaving Jaspien in his care.

            The garage door bangs open.  Duo appears with a huge grin.  "Lunch is served!"

            Yokaze scrubs at the grime on her hands and puts her tools away.  Next to her, she can hear Heero directing Jaspien in the same task.  She glances up at Duo, whose gaze lingers on the man and boy, something soft shimmering in his violet eyes.

            _I don't think you've guessed yet_...  She ponders the look in Duo's eyes and the recently slightly less defensive aura Heero wears.  ..._that you need Jaspien more than he needs you_..._ to awaken the gentleness and affection I _know_ you've buried somewhere in your soul.  You don't know it yet, but you need those emotions, Heero._  She wanders over to the door and stands next to Duo.  _But you don't need them quite as much as Duo does._

"Is Taki still rummaging around in the junkyard?"

            "Yeah.  She said she'd be in later to eat."

            "She's probably scared of Jaspien."

            Duo chuckles.  "Poor Wufei.  Of the five of us pilots, he's the one most likely to have kids and he gets himself attached to Taki.  The Anti-Mom."

            "Just must be lucky, I guess," Yokaze muses.

            Across the garage, Heero and Jaspien have finally finished cleaning up.  As they approach, she can't stop herself from glancing at Duo's expressive face._  Someday, Heero, you're going to look into Duo's eyes and see what I see.  And with Jaspien's help, hopefully that day isn't too far off_...

**.**

**~End of Chapter 13~**


	15. Chapter 14: The Voice

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 14: The Voice**

**.**

            **_"Duo_**...**_"_**

Amid the limp bed linens, Duo turns toward the sound of his name whispered against his ear.  He feels the weight of a cobalt stare and smiles.  A calloused fingertip traces the edge of his face.

            _"Tell me your secrets, Duo."_

            Duo shakes his head.  He has no secrets.  Not really...  Just the one, actually...  The one he must never, ever utter...  He shivers as a lock of cool, dark brown hair trails over his brow.  He turns toward the face only a scant inch above his own.  Duo's lips part and he exhales a single name.

            _"I'm here for your secrets, Duo.  You know it is only a matter of time before I'll know_..._ one way or the other_..._"_

            Duo's body writhes on the mattress as Heero's hot breath burns his skin.  He's so close, so very close...  The dark hair caresses a trail across Duo's face until Heero's mouth hovers just next to his ear.

            _"Your secrets, Duo_..._"_

            "I..."

            _"Your desires_..._"_

            "Uhn..."

            _"Surrender them to me."_

            Shivering, he turns away.  "No... I won't tell you..."

            Duo sucks in a sharp breath as he feels the presence looming closer.  _"I will not be denied."_

            The fingertips whisper over Duo's mouth.

            _"Tell me."_

            "I..."

            _"Surrender."_

            "I..."

            Duo watches, helpless, as Heero leans closer, his lips hovering a bare millimeter above his own.  _"Surrender to me."_

            Wrapped within the spell cast by those unfathomable cobalt eyes, Duo's mouth moves of its own volition to form the words he has sworn to never say: "I love you."

**.**

            **Gasping, Duo sits** upright in bed.  Chest heaving, veins bursting with adrenalin, he combs his sweat-dampened bangs away from his eyes.  _A dream,_ he consoles himself.  _Just another dream._

            He hastily unwinds the sheet from around his legs and swings them over the side of the bed.  Head bowed, he concentrates on breathing deeply and slowly.  _Get a grip!  What the hell's wrong with you?  You've had worse dreams than this and managed not to wig out over them._  He shakes his head and plunges his hands into his hair.

            _Third night this week_..._  I never used to have reoccurring dreams before this.  It's always the exact same damn dream_..._ you'd think it would have started to lose its scare factor by now._  But it hasn't.  There is something uniquely terrifying about the abrupt ending; Duo confesses and Heero... has no reaction.  _No reaction at all._  He rubs his forearms to chase away the chill he imagines.  _No laughing in my face.  No snort of disgust.  No 'Omae o korosu.'  Nothing._

            With a sigh, Duo glances at his pillows.  He knows he should try to get back to sleep, but suddenly the very idea is distasteful.  Not bothering to hunt out a T-shirt, Duo quits the bed and heads for his door.  He wanders out into the hall, taking in the creepy mid-night silence.  His bare feet make almost no noise whatsoever against the floor as he passes Heero's door.

            Duo pauses.  He turns and stares at the plain wood portal, picturing the room beyond: the meticulous desk, the carefully arranged closet, the assortment of espionage necessities carefully stowed in fire-proof cases under the bed...  And on that bed...  Before he can realize what he is doing, Duo's hand fists around the doorknob and silently rotates it.

            The door swings open without a single protest.  Duo's dark-adjusted eyes sweep the immaculate room, coming to rest on the bed and its occupant.  It is strange, but he's never really gotten used to the sight Heero makes when he's asleep.  Sure, Duo's seen him nap on space shuttles and whatnot, doze lightly on dorm room bunks, but to be practically comatose in a real bed, in a real house...

            Duo stands on the threshold, absorbing the scene before him.  He can make out the bunched dark sheets across his waist, the smooth, bare skin of Heero's back, the tangled mass of his dark hair against the pillow.  One arm disappears beneath that same pillow while the other dangles over the edge of the mattress.  Duo grins at the other man's completely relaxed state.

            _I never would have pegged you for a guy who conks out on his stomach._  Duo grins, studying the dark lashes and parted lips.  _I guess everyone looks harmless and innocent in their sleep.  Even you._

            But Duo is very aware of this illusion.  The humor vanishes from his face as Heero slumbers on, oblivious to his audience.  _Oblivious.__  That's a good word._  How long has Duo lived oblivious to his own feelings for the protection and preservation of their friendship?  _That night way back_..._ when you found out Yokaze didn't die because of you after all_..._  That night I thought_..._ I thought things would be different.  I held you while you cried.  And I promised you I'd always be there for you.  And I thought your acceptance meant something.  But I was presumptuous.  Things haven't changed, have they, Heero?  They must not have, because here I am at three o'clock in the morning, watching you sleep and wishing I was lying next to you._

            Duo breathes deeply, inhaling the scent that permeates Heero's room.  Heero's scent.  _I am truly pathetic.  You're my best friend and here I am sniffin' your room 'cause I'm feeling lonely tonight._  Duo's eyes close.  _My best friend.__  I promise I'll never do anything to endanger our friendship, Heero.  What we've got is too important to gamble with._

            Silently, Duo retreats into the hall.  His gaze caresses Heero's figure once more in the darkness before he pulls the door shut to his friend's room.  He does not allow himself to dwell on the decision he's just made.  He tells himself that he has everything he wants, that he is content and satisfied right down to his very soul.  He's just about convinced himself of it, too, when the voice of a younger Duo Maxwell flutters up from his memories.

            _"I may run and hide, but I don't tell lies_..._"_

            He places his hand on the surface of Heero's door.  "I'm not lying," he says.

            _"Tell me your secrets, Duo Maxwell."_

            Duo's brow pulls into a dark, determined scowl.

            "I have no secrets."

            His fingers slide down the door as he turns away, heading back the way he'd come.

**.**

            **Sliding his arms** into the sleeves of his jacket, Quatre heads for the door.  He checks his wrist watch.  Wufei and Trowa are probably already waiting downstairs.  Quatre grins as he anticipates a day spent at a martial arts tournament with two good friends.  He drops his keys into his pocket and makes sure he has cash in his wallet.  Then, just as his fingers connect with the doorknob, a soft beep from the room behind stalls him.

            Quatre turns and heads for the laptop, hoping the message isn't from a member of his staff (i.e., Rashid) bearing more bad news (e.g., terrorist threats).  Leaning over the chair, he acknowledges the call.

            He discovers that it hadn't been a live transmission, as he'd anticipated, but a pre-recorded message.  A soft smile curves his mouth as Bisho's radiant face blinks onto the screen.  She'd left her hair down again and a soft breeze tugs at a few strands.  The bright "sun" light brings out the golden highlights in her hair and deepens her violet eyes to near-black.

            "Hey, Q!  What's shakin'?  I'm just a-groovin' thanks for asking."  She winks, letting him know that she finds it amusing she can anticipate his courtly manners.  "I finally got a day off and so I, ah, _barrowed_ this remote message recorder."

            Quatre begins to notice the unfinished buildings at the edge of the courtyard Bisho occupies.  In fact, only one visible building is finished.  Its impressive façade of glass and steel gleams in the late morning light.

            "And after I give this puppy a try some of the other interns and I are going out to this bar—um, I mean restaurant..."  She winks again.  "Don't tell Duo I said that, 'k, Q?"

            Quatre chuckles.

            "Anyway, I gotta be up and about tomorrow... you wouldn't believe the pain-in-the-rectum assignment I've got."  She transmits a wry grin.  "And, no, I'm not manning—or rather, _woman-_ing—the coffee pot."

            He watches as she bites her lower lip.  "Look, Quatre, there's something odd about this colony.  I hardly ever see any children but I _know_ there are tons of them here.  And I haven't managed to get through to your sister, either.  And then, the other day, my boss asked me to redesign the output ventilation system of this building behind me."  She nods to the impressive structure.  "Quatre," she continues, "a five-year-old wouldn't be able to fit through these vents.  They're totally against the international colony design guidelines...  But my boss acts like it's no big deal.  It makes me wonder what else has been adjusted around here..."

            Quatre frowns, concern eclipsing his pleasure at seeing Bisho.

            She shakes her head and adopts her characteristic, charming grin.  "But what-the-hey, right?  I'm probably just paranoid.  Heero's condition is spreading.  Pretty soon I'm going to start getting the urge to strap on some spandex and walk around looking like I just sucked on a rotten lemon..."

            Quatre chuckles at the vivid image.

            She sighs.  "I miss ya, Q.  Take care and have a wild time on that vacation of yours...  Of course, I expect to see the photos... hint, hint...  Later, Lancelot!"

            A small square with a text message indicating that the message has ended flashes on the pc screen.  Quatre lets out a long breath and smiles sheepishly at Bisho's comparison between him and a knight in shining armor.  He's fairly sure she's never discovered that it was his family's scholarship fund that had financed her schooling, but somehow she's gotten the idea that Quatre is her Lancelot anyway.

            He leans away from the desk, considering the next message that flashes across the screen.

            _"To save this message, please press 'Enter.'"_

            Quatre taps the "enter" key, recalling the legend of Lancelot...  Recalling the fact that he'd fallen in love with Queen Guenivere...  His hand fists as a thought occurs to him; _Do you know, Bisho?  I thought I was so careful_...  He shakes his head.  It is just a strange coincidence.  Bisho doesn't know how he feels.  How could she?  Only recently had he sorted that mess out himself.

            _And now that you know how you feel, are you going to do anything about it?_

            "There's nothing to be done," he tells himself.  "At least not today.  Today I have a tournament to go to."

            He crosses the room and opens the front door, but before he steps across the threshold, he glances over his shoulder at the black screen of the laptop computer, the dull ache in his chest making him realize how much he misses her, too.

**.**

            **The late afternoon light** illuminates three friends, strolling home in companionable silence.  Quatre pulls out a pair of orange-tinted sunglasses and slides them onto his nose.  He sighs.

            "I really enjoyed that," he says to his companions.  "It's too bad Heero and Duo had an urgent job to tackle today."

            Trowa nods.  "I saw Yokaze compete in one of those tournaments about a year ago."

            Wufei arcs a brow.  "That's surprising.  She doesn't seem the type to do it for the glory."

            "She's not.  She promised the fencing club that if they won the Inter Colony Championship she'd enter.  They won.  She entered."

            "How'd she do?" Quatre asks.

            Trowa smiles.  "She kicked ass."

            Wufei snorts.  "I almost feel sorry for you, Barton, with a mate like that."

            "It's not so bad," Trowa quietly assures him, a small smile on his lips.

            Quatre's gaze travels over his friend.  "I don't see any bruises, limping, or other evidence of maiming," he jokes.

            Wufei's mouth curves.  "Oh, trust me, he's been marked somehow."

            Quatre blinks.

            Trowa smiles quietly to himself.

            Wufei explains, "It's the way of women like Taki and Yokaze to—"  Suddenly, Wufei halts, his attention directed toward a shop's display window.

            "Wufei?" Quatre inquires.

            Without a word to his companions, he strides to the door and disappears into the shop.  Quatre glances at Trowa, who shrugs.  They follow.

            Quatre's first and immediate impression is that no red-blooded man would be caught _dead_ in this store.  Removing his glasses, Quatre takes in the assortment of lace and silk underthings with a slight blush.

            "Perhaps we should just wait for him outside..." Quatre mutters.  Receiving no reply, he turns.  "Trowa?"  His mouth drops open as he spies his friend examining a display of satin night camisoles with matching panties.  Unwilling to remain standing in view of the display window and any passersby, Quatre wanders over to him.

            "Find something for Bisho?" the other man inquires mildly.

            Quatre glares at him.

            "Duo's not with us, so it'd be safe to shop..." Trowa points out, deadpan.

            Quatre ignores him.

            From within the depths of the shop, Wufei appears with a middle-aged woman in tow.  He marches toward the display window and gestures toward an elegant, deep red dress artfully draped in the arms of a scantily clad mannequin.  "This dress," he tells the woman.

            "Oh, yes," she says.  "Well, that is our last one."  The woman removes the dress from the window and holds it up for Wufei's inspection.

            Quatre and Trowa share a glance at the artful elegance of the garment.  The sheath of silk is embroidered with a breathtaking Chinese dragon.  Each scale is detailed with black thread, each claw with white.  The serpent arcs gracefully over the fabric, winding its way up the dress.

            After a moment of eyeing the garment critically, Wufei says, "I'll take it."

            As the woman carries the dress to the counter in order to wrap it, Quatre wanders over to Wufei.  "You're buying that dress for Taki?"

            Wufei nods. Quatre notices that his hand is fisted around something on a string about his neck.  "It's going to be her wedding dress," he explains.

            Trowa's brows arc.  

            Quatre grins.  "I didn't know you were engaged—"

            "We're not."

            "Then why are you buying her a wedding dress?"

            Wufei tucks the object in his fist back underneath his shirt.  "I won't ask Taki to marry me," he explains.  "She would expect better than that."

            "Then what _will_ you do?" Quatre asks, completely dumbfounded.

            A small grin tugs at the corner of Wufei's mouth.  "I'll trick her into it."

            _"What?!"_

            Trowa approaches the two of them and with an enigmatic smile, explains, "This is the way of men like us who have women like Taki and Yokaze..."

            Wufei glances in Trowa's direction and, still wearing a small grin, nods once in agreement.  Quatre shakes his head and, sliding his sunglasses back onto his face, announces flatly, "I'll be waiting for you two weirdos outside."

**.**

            **Jaspien stares up** into the face of the hero.  The hero's dark blue eyes stare back.

            "What is it?" the man rasps.

            Jaspien bites his lower lip and whispers, "I don't wanna go to sleep yet."

            Heero checks his watch.  "It's already past nine, Jaspien," he points out.

            The little boy clutches the blankets to his chin.  "If I sleep he'll come.  I can feel it."

            "Who?" Heero asks, wondering if this "he" is the same entity as the "him" he'd asked after before.

            Jaspien trembles, his gaze glancing wildly about the room.  In a voice so tiny it is barely audible, he whispers, "The Voice."

            Heero blinks.  "The Voice?"

            Jaspien nods.  "I bet you don't have a voice.  I bet you're too strong."

            He gazes down at the little boy, brow creased.  Something is vaguely familiar about this conversation.  He asks, "What is The Voice like?"

            The boy shivers.  "Scary.  Mean.  He punishes me if I'm bad."

            Heero remembers the seizure Jaspien had endured in the M & P Building.  Yokaze had guessed that the fit had been punishment for not following his orders.  Is The Voice the source of these orders?  Heero asks, "What does The Voice want you to do?"

            Jaspien looks away.  "I... don't know.  He just says stuff like 'go now' and 'don't move yet' and 'complete your mission.'"

            Gazing at the tortured expression on Jaspien's face, Heero feels a previously unidentified emotion well up from within him.  Before he can pause to consider his actions, he reaches out and brushes Jaspien's feather-soft bangs away from his eyes.  "I had a voice," Heero tells him quietly.

            Jaspien's large eyes widen even more.  "What... what did he tell you?"

            Heero takes a deep breath.  He'd never spoken of this to anyone before.  Never revealed the vague memory from his childhood of a voice whispering commands in his ear, guiding him toward his objectives.  He says, "'This does not pertain to your mission.'  'Focus on the mission.'  'Obtain the target.'"

            Jaspien's fingers twitch against the blanket.  "The same," he whispers.

            Heero nods, not liking this new twist at all.  How could Jaspien be experiencing the same phenomena as he had if the organization had truly been wiped out years ago?  Several alternatives occur to him.  He cares for none of them.

            "So you can hear it, too," Jaspien says in wonderment.

            "Yeah."

            Expression fearful, he asks, "Does he ever go away?"

            Heero nods.  "Yeah.  He goes away."

            "How?  How do I fight him?"

            Heero reaches out again, placing his hand on both of Jaspien's.  "Believe that he does not exist.  Believe that he has no power over you.  Believe that you are stronger than he is."

            Tears gather in Jaspien's eyes.  "But he _is_ stronger."

            Heero shakes his head.  "I never want to hear you say that again.  You're wrong.  _You_ are stronger.  _You_, Jaspien."

            "You're strong," the boy whispers tentatively.

            Heero nods.  "Yeah."  Reading the plea in Jaspien's liquid eyes, he promises, "I'll help you, Jaspien.  We'll fight him together."

            "Okay, Hero."

            Heero watches as Jaspien turns toward him and tucks his small hands beneath his chin.  Jaspien closes his eyes, but then opens them immediately.

            "Will you stay for a while?"

            Heero nods.  "I'll be right here.  I promise."

            With a shaky smile, Jaspien closes his eyes again.  Heero reaches behind him and shuts off the light.  In the darkness, he studies Jaspien's face, listens to the sound of his breathing... and remembers.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 14~**


	16. Chapter 15: Dreaming

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 15: Dreaming**

**.**

            **The dream.**  Heero remembers it.  The strong arms.  The scent of blood and gunpowder.  He remembers the embrace of a soldier.  The dream had been the only possession the organization had not stolen from him.  The only thing that had kept him sane in the wake of the training.  The only thing that had calmed him when the conflicting pressures of instinct and programming had become too much.  And now...

            Heero watches his young charge sleep, listens to the slow, steady breaths.  He had been only a little older than this boy when he'd been inducted into the world of the mobile suit soldier.  He cannot clearly recall anything from that time.  He vaguely remembers a voice like Jaspien's.  Vaguely recalls his resistance to it.  But the voice had been only one of the early stages of his training.  Later, much deadlier, darker neo-instincts had held sway in his mind.  But he does not care to dwell on these.  He cares only about the dream.

            He leans back in his chair and gazes at the ceiling.  For so long he had believed in the dream and he had never realized... never dared to hope... to consider...

            _"Jaspien needs you, Heero."_

_            "He tried to communicate with _you_."_

_            "And _you_ need Jaspien."_

_            "What?"_

Yokaze.  Is there no end to her secrets, to her mysteries?  Why had she never mentioned it before now?  How is it that Heero had never uncovered the truth himself?

            _"When you first came to the organization, you rejected the programming.  Violently.  I could hear you in the room next to mine, battling with the voices and commands in your mind.  The doctors couldn't work with you.  You refused to cooperate with the strategists.  That was when Dr. J and I came to an understanding_..._"_

            Crossing his arms over his chest, Heero attempts to unravel the strange emotions intertwining within him.  Years ago, Dr. J had given him a home video of a training simulation in which Yokaze and Heero had sparred.  He had wounded her and, in return, she had held him close and thanked him.  It had been the only time Heero knew of when he'd been embraced by another soldier smelling of blood and sweat.  And at the time (when he'd viewed the video and remembered), he had assumed that this moment had been the source of the dream.

            But the truth is far more layered than that.

            _"I would stay with you.  I tried to calm you, to reassure you.  But, to you, everyone was an enemy."  Yokaze grins.  "I had a hell of a time explaining where my bruises, black eyes, and split lips had come from.  After all, I was supposed to be spending an uneventful night in my own room."_

            It is impossible, yet true.  The dream.  The soldier.  The blood and gunpowder.  It had been no dream at all.  And the dream itself is the result of not only one but many occasions on which Heero had been held, sometimes against his will, and comforted.  He closes his eyes and sighs.  How had he forgotten?  Had he been that delirious?  The organization that determined?  The training that influential?

            A pressure blossoms hotly in Heero's chest as he begins to realize the scope of what the organization had done to him, of what they had stolen from him, what they must have stolen from Yokaze, what could still be stolen from Jaspien.

            _"You said I needed Jaspien."_

_            "Offering comfort and reassurance to someone else, watching them come to believe in their own value is an experience that went a long way toward healing the heartache I'd suffered."_

_            "What makes you think I—"_

_            "Shut up and trust me, Heero."_

_            After a long moment, he growls, "What am I supposed to do with a kid?"_

_            Yokaze shrugs.  "Spar with him when he needs to lash out.  Hold him when he needs to feel whole."  She gives him a long, level look.  "Just follow your emotions, Heero.  You'll be fine.  And so will Jaspien."_

            Heero's gaze strays to the tiny figure in the bed once more.  And thinks Yokaze has more faith in him than can be justified.  He is not capable of caring for a child.  He is not Yokaze.  He is a soldier.  He knows nothing about the tasks and tests required to mend a mind and heart.

            He studies the froth of fine, platinum hair and recalls Yokaze's advice to follow his emotions.  The taste of irony is heavy in his mouth.  How often had he used those exact words?  How often had he offered them as advice to others?

            Torn between laughing and groaning, he utters not a sound and watches Jaspien slumber on, unable to abandon him.

**.**

            **_"Do you want_**_ me to tell you what I think is the cause of your, er, problem?"_

            Trowa pulls his turtleneck over his head and tosses it in the laundry hamper.  His mouth curves as he remembers his conversation with Quatre.  Recalls his revelation.  _So that's why I'm acting this way,_ he concludes.  He looks down at his hands, surprised by the tingling sensation of adrenalin in his wrists and fingertips.  With a small shake of his head, he unfastens his jeans... and pauses.

            He glances over his shoulder at the door which he'd left slightly ajar.  He can still hear Yokaze at her computer.  He recalls the music class this evening he'd endured like the sweet torture it had been.  She had been there, just there, across the room.  So close.  All he would have had to do is say the words… but he hadn't.  And now she is on yet another quest for another day to save.  He knows before long she'll be on another mission.  Knows she'll possibly be risking her life again.

            _Tell her or you'll regret it._

            Trowa considers this option: simply saying the words that will describe what he feels.  What he feels... after living so long with a numb heart it is a surprise to him: this emotion.  Emotions.  But how can words truly do justice to them?  After all, words have never really been the medium through which he and Yokaze have communicated.  Only_ words_ would be inadequate.  Especially to two people who speak to each other with a glance and, more recently, touch.  But can he communicate _this?_

            _I want you to know what you've done to me.  And I want you to know that I'm_..._ glad._  

            His hands fall away from the waistband of his jeans as he makes his decision.

**.**

            **Out of the corner** of her eye, Yokaze catches a movement in the living room doorway.  She knows it's Trowa.  Quickly, she skims the remaining paragraph before glancing up.  And glances back to her computer screen, a silent scream of lust echoing in her mind.

            Trowa doesn't move from his position in the doorway, hands grasping the wood molding on either side of him... lean torso revealed in the absence of a shirt... faded jeans unbuttoned yet clinging stubbornly to his slim hips.  Unable to concentrate on the document before her any longer, Yokaze calls up the word processor program to finish her notes on the last section of text she'd just scoured.

            A small grin works at Trowa's lips.  That look in her eyes...  She'd glanced away quickly, but not quickly enough.  In the doorway, Trowa moves, approaching her workstation.  "You're working too hard," he tells her quietly.

            She looks up through her brows as he walks toward her, unable to not admire the way the loose denim shifts with the movements of his hips.  "Well, ah, um..." she says vaguely.

            Placing his hands on the surface of her desk, he leans over her laptop and suggests in his usual calm, mellow voice, "Perhaps you should call it a night?"

            "Er..." she says, fingertips flying over the keyboard.  "I..."

            Slowly, Trowa straightens and, trailing the fingers of his left hand around the edge of the desk, moves around to where Yokaze is typing away.  He stands behind her chair and places his hands on her shoulders.  The muscles along Yokaze's jaw tense as he softly slides his palms down her arms and laces his fingers between hers in a blatant invitation.  She can feel his breath at the side of her neck.

            "Yokaze?"

            She swallows... with difficulty.  "Ye-yeah?"

            Trowa smiles against her skin.  "What in the hell are you typing?"

            She blinks and re-reads the block of text she'd just composed, Trowa's chuckle vibrating the air next to her ear.  She feels her face heat when she realizes she'd unconsciously replaced every other word with terms like "lust," "god," "hips," and "damn hot."  Laughter rises out of her throat at her own folly.  And the laughter dies as Trowa's fingertips glide along her jaw and down to encircle her throat.

            "Looks like you need to get focused," he murmurs.  He leans closer, eyes glittering.  "I think I can help..."

**.**

            **Pale blue eyes** gaze lovingly down at the glowing computer screen.  The portrait of a young, talented musician gazes back.  A large hand caresses the edge of the woman's face.

            "So you're calling yourself 'Yokaze' now," the man behind the computer muses.  "It's Japanese.  Meaning 'night wind.'  Did you think that up yourself?"  He chuckles.  "No, of course not.  It's too... wistful, too... frivolous a name for you.  So, it was a gift, then."

            The man with the pale eyes steeples his fingers and stares at the portrait.  "Who gave it to you?  Who named you?  Who has claimed you now?"

            For a moment those ghostly eyes narrow in anger.  Slowly, he shifts his attention to the print-out pages fanning out across his immaculate desk.  Deliberately, he reaches forward and selects two sheets of paper.  In the top, right hand corner of each is a color portrait of the subject of the report.  He knows the data shown thereon by heart, but reads it anyway, enjoying the rage that burns in him at the words.

            "Is it this one?  Heero Yuy?  You stay close to him.  But not as close as this one.  Triton Bloom.  Perhaps he's the one?"  He stares at the images, and in his mind they come alive... alive with hideous torment as their blood sprays through the dark world that is his thoughts.  They have challenged his claim on her.  And they will suffer for it.  The man smiles.  The time for his revenge will come.  He is in no hurry.  He rather enjoys the anticipation and the fantasies.  He sets the pages aside and returns his attention to the silent, staring young woman.  "But no matter.  Their claim is but an illusion.  You and I both know it, don't we?  You belong to me..."

            The door chime interrupts the man's feverish murmurs.  He leans away from the laptop.  "Enter!"

            "Pardon the intrusion, sir," a young soldier says from the threshold, "but I have the secondary test results for you."

            He waves a hand, encouraging the soldier to cross the room to his desk.  The young man does so, standing at attention as the man scans the results quickly.  "Still none of them compare," he grumbles.

            "Sir?" the soldier asks, wondering if his superior has a message for him to deliver.

            The older man gestures for him to leave.  "You are dismissed."

            "Yes, sir."

            As the messenger departs, the man allows the pages of test results to slide into the trash bin.  With a soft smile, he turns back to the woman's portrait.  "None have been able to match your test results."  He chuckles.  "And just how do I know this after you'd destroyed everything on L1?  Oh, I know.  Every number, every bit of data has been etched into my memory.  Yes, I know you.  I remember you.  My one true masterpiece...  And it's only a matter of time before you come home... for good."  

**.**

            **Gasping, Yokaze throws** herself upright, blindly struggling to escape the bonds of her dream.  She swings her legs over the side of the bed and leans forward.  _Breathe.  Just breathe._

            Instantly awake and alert, Trowa sits up behind her.  He studies her shivering figure for a moment; he's undeniably shaken by her violent thrashing.  He whispers her name.  His fingers glide over her shoulder.

            She forces herself not to tense at the touch.  She's with Trowa.  Everything is fine.  She's with Trowa...  Yokaze glares at the floor.  If she closes her eyes now she will see those pale eyes again, hear that hushed voice...  Calling to her.  Calling her home...  She shakes her head.  She can't think about that.  Hands fisted on her thighs, she forces her breathing to slow, deliberately relaxes her body until her heartbeat steadies.  After a moment, she has calmed enough to glance over her shoulder and offer Trowa a smile that doesn't betray her fear.

            "Just a dream," she tells him.  "That's all."

            Trowa's eyes narrow.  He continues stroking her back, knowing there is so much more that she is not telling him.

            "I'm sorry I woke you."

            Before he can reply, she rises from the bed and begins pulling on her jeans.

            "Yokaze?"

            "I'm going to try to be productive for a while," she says, ignoring Trowa's soft request.  She pulls on a shirt—one of Trowa's she notes after sliding her arms through the over-long sleeves.  Behind her, she can hear him getting up, crossing the room, placing a hand quietly on her shoulder, stroking his thumb across her jaw.

            "Why don't you go back to sleep?" she suggests lightly, as if nothing odd had just happened.  "I'm going to be up for a while."

            Trowa watches her slip out into the hall.  He stands at the door, listening to the sound of her desk chair wheeling into place, the welcoming chime of her laptop, the clicking of her fingertips against the keyboard.  Thinking he's never once seen Yokaze's hands shake... until tonight.

**.**

            **Yokaze slides **into the chair with a sigh of relief.  Eager to leave the memory of her nightmare behind, she reaches up and turns on the computer.  Perhaps she is not as human as she leads the others to believe.  Or is it normal to find comfort with the company of machines?  Burying her head in her hands, she waits for the desktop to load and tries to analyze the dream objectively.  This time it had been different.  This time he'd known about Heero and Triton.  Vividly, she recalls the blood, _their_ blood, their agony...  Yokaze furrows her hands through her messy hair.  _He's dead,_ she tells herself.  _He cannot touch me now.  He cannot touch those I care for._

            With a cleansing breath, she turns her attention to the computer and calls up the file containing her notes on outer space's newest colony.  Thus far she's been unable to locate anything distinctly sinister.  Perhaps she's simply too paranoid for her own good.  Deciding to abandon that quest for a while, she types in the name of a certain towheaded little boy under her brother's care... and discovers a familiar face staring back at her.  The results of her search...  Alexander Jaspien.

            Yokaze scans the missing persons report.

            _Last seen: Colony 555 on June 12, A.C. 204_

            Her eyes narrow.  That's the name of the new, privately funded colony.  The one with an unusually high need for geneticists and DNA research facilities.  The one offering the good, golden life to any orphans willing to relocate.  According to the report, Jaspien's parents are offering a cash reward for the safe return of their son...  Yokaze quickly saves this information to her hard drive and ponders the data.

            Someone on C555 is looking for Jaspien, offering a good deal of money as a reward...  Someone had trained Jaspien to infiltrate military secured buildings and manipulate complex computer systems...  That sort of training takes a long time, considerably longer than the few days Jaspien has been missing.  Had he been trained by someone on C555?

            Frowning, she calls up a new screen and searches the cargo and shipping records of L2 since June twelfth.  She scans through the first page of the list of aircraft carriers and their respective cargo manifests, but sees no ships that have arrived from C555.  She continues to scroll down the list.  _Somehow_ Jaspien had managed to find his way to L2.  But perhaps he had not come to L2 from C555 directly...  Perhaps he'd stopped at another colony en route...

            Yokaze's fingers lift from the keypad as the last bit of the list comes into view, and there, on the thirteenth of June is an entry for a ship returning from a merchant mission to C555.  This is the only ship Jaspien could have stowed away on if he'd come to L2 directly.  Her eyes narrow at the cargo list of scrap materials bound for recycling centers.  She cross-checks the vessel's ID tag with their original departure date.  The ship's initial manifest had consisted of fifty tons of construction supplies... of which ten of those tons had been un-worked gundanium alloy.

            Sitting back in her chair, Yokaze stares at the computer screen.  An impossible scenario forming in her mind.  She glances at the clock.  It's nearly six in the morning.  She knows that Heero is probably awake by now, but she does not move from her chair.  She has to be sure.  Before she re-opens all of the old wounds, she _must_ be sure.

**.**

            **Yokaze had called** earlier that morning, asking to be forgiven: she couldn't come to help out today.  To Heero, she hadn't looked or sounded like a woman about to embark on any pleasure escapades with a certain green-eyed ex-mercenary, but he had been suspicious nonetheless.  He glares at the land rover in front of him and attacks it with a vicious twist of the wrench in his hands.

            Duo glances up at him from the other side of the gaping hood.  "You alright there, Heero?"

            "Fine," he growls unconsciously listing all of the things that defy his statement: Jaspien's training; The Voice; Yokaze's mysterious absence.  Any of which could develop into a situation that is far from "fine."

            Frowning, Duo tries again.  "Look, Heero, I—"

            "I don't want to talk about it," he snaps.

            "Right.  Sorry."

            Heero glares at the engine a moment longer before guilt prods at him.  Reluctantly, he puts down the wrench and glances up at Duo's face.  And is surprised to see his hurt expression.  Taking a deep breath, Heero casts about for the right words to say to mend the harm he's done.  "No, _I'm_ sorry, Duo.  I didn't mean to..."

            Duo looks up with a wry grin.  "Bite my head off?" he supplies helpfully.

            "Yeah."

            Duo shrugs.  "No biggie."

            Heero watches Duo return his attention to the engine.  There is something about the other man's body language that tells Heero he hasn't been completely forgiven, that Duo still feels the sting.  Heero repeats, "I really am sorry.  I didn't mean to hurt... you."

            Glancing up and spying Heero's earnest expression, Duo chuckles out of nervousness.  "Hey, I said 'don't sweat it,' man."

            "I... know.  Thanks."

            Their gazes remain locked for a long moment.  Heero studies Duo's familiar face and notes the smudge of grease on the tip of his nose.  Without thinking, he searches in his pocket for a rag.  Cloth in hand, he reaches across the engine and wipes the smudge away.  Duo blinks at him with owlish eyes.

            "You had grease... there," Heero mumbles.

            Duo grins wryly, "Thanks, _Mom_."

            Heero grins back.

            "Hero!  I drew you a picture!"

            Heero turns away from Duo's soft, dark eyes as Jaspien's running feet carry him closer.  "Another one?" Heero asks.  "That was fast."  He wonders if all kids are natural-born artists.  Duo had certainly seemed to think so when he'd given Jaspien some old crayons and a stack of slightly wrinkled paper this morning.

            Jaspien reaches Heero and thrusts the picture into his hands.  Mindful of the grease on his fingers, Heero holds the picture gingerly.  He glances from Jaspien's eager, shining face to the paper in his hands.  And what he sees makes his blood freeze.

            "Heero?  What is it?"

            Heero forces a small smile of encouragement.  He looks at Jaspien and tells him, "This is a good one.  Can you draw me another picture?"

            "Yeah," Jaspien says with a grin and scampers off.

            Duo watches Heero as his gaze returns to the paper in his grimy, trembling hands.  "Heero?" he says, softer this time.

            Heero starts at the sound of his name.  He glances up, expression unguarded.  "I..."  His eyes focus on the drawing once more.  "I have to go.  Can you watch Jaspien for a while?"

            Brow creased with concern, Duo says, "Sure, Heero.  No problem.  Where are you going?"

            Wiping his hands off, Heero mutters, "To see my sister."

**.**

**~End of Chapter 15~**


	17. Chapter 16: The Truth

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 16: The Truth**

**.**

            **Yokaze scowls** at the computer screen as yet another data search reveals nothing.  She looks up at the clock counting the hours since she's had a good eight hours of quality sleep.  With a sigh, she decides she'll be able to find nothing more in her current condition.  She'll get some rest and try again later.  Her finger brushes the power button but a pounding on the apartment door prevents her from pressing it.

            She gets up and strides to the doorway.  Opening it, she finds Heero, fresh from the garage, his expression carefully controlled.  By way of greeting, he shoves something at her.  Yokaze glances down at a child's drawing.  It's a crude picture done in brilliant colors, but it is easy for her to distinguish the frame of a mobile suit cockpit, the monitors glowing yellow, black ghosts swirling around the tiny figure strapped to the seat, mouth open in a silent scream.

            "Jaspien drew that today."

            She says nothing, recognizing the Zero System instantly.  And she knows Heero notes her lack of surprise.  Taking a fortifying breath, she raises her gaze to Heero's.

            Very quietly, he states, "I think you have something to tell me."

            Silently, she assents and opens the door.

**.**

            **Jaspien tugs** on Duo's hand.  Having gained Duo's attention, he asks, "Where's Hero?"

            "Um, I'm not sure."  Duo glances around the school, wondering where to start looking.  Heero had come to see Yokaze.  Duo knows that Yokaze helps with lessons and, by the sound of things, several are in session at the moment.  What day is it?  Self defense class?  "C'mon.  Let's try the gym first."

            Together, they trudge down the stairs to the basement.  The sound of a body smacking the mat echoes out of the open door and into the hall.  Duo peeks over the threshold and is shocked to see Wufei and Taki sparring.  Trowa hovers nearby, placing boxing gear in their proper cubicles along the wall.

            Duo steps into the room and, watching Taki dump Wufei on the mat, says, "Hey, Trowa.  What's up?  Class over already?"

            "Hey, Duo.  Yeah, we finished about fifteen minutes ago.  Are you looking for someone?" Trowa asks, glancing at the little boy clutching Duo's hand and staring at the two people wrestling around on the mat.

            "Yeah.  Have you seen Heero?"

            Trowa shakes his head.

            "How about Yokaze?  He was coming to see her."

            "Yokaze didn't help with the class today.  I assume she's still upstairs."

            "You are too weak!" Wufei growls at Taki who is currently glaring up at him from the mat.

            "You can just take that 'weak' nonsense and shove it up your—"

            "Hey!  Hey!" Duo interrupts, "Innocent ears on the premises."

            Taki snorts.  "_You_ hardly qualify as _that_, Duo Maxwell."  She gets up and squares off with her lover again.

            "You think you can endure more of this?" Wufei demands, incredulous.

            "More of what?" she snarls back.  "Your incessant prattling?"

            "I would have thought that after five years you would have learned that you cannot best me!"

            "Hah!" she tosses back.  "I _will_ best you, you sonuvaslug.  I am _not_ weak!  And if I have to I will spend the _rest of my life proving you WRONG!"_

            "That woman is _intense_," Duo mutters.

            A small grin works at the corner of Trowa's lips.  "They're perfect for each other."

            Duo glances at Trowa, surprised by the wistful note in his normally flat voice.  "Yeah, I guess you're—"

            A loud smack resounds through the room, causing Duo to wince and glance at the mat.  Wufei has managed to pin Taki down.  Growling, she slaps the mat in defeat.  However, Wufei's face is far from glowing with triumph.  With the fighting finished, a gentleness settles in his expression and body language.  He holds out a hand to Taki, offering to help her up.  With a wry grin, she takes it and allows him to pull her to her feet.

            A movement at the door grabs Duo's attention.  "Hey, Heero!" he calls.

            Heero glances in his direction and Duo immediately shuts up.  _Whew!  I don't think I've _ever_ seen him that pissed off before.  And that's saying something._

            "Wufei," Heero says.

            Wufei looks up.

            "Do you have anything left?"

            Wufei glowers at the other man, his expression indicating he has taken grave offense to Heero's impertinent question.  "Enough for you, Yuy," he snaps.

            "Hn," Heero says, bending down to unlace his shoes.

            Taki clears off the mat but not without giving Wufei an encouraging smack on the rump.

            Heero concentrates on the mundane task of peeling off his socks.  That finished, he approaches the figure waiting for him on the mat and sees not an old friend, but every faceless scientist who had ever touched Yokaze.  

            Seeing the look on Heero's face, Duo squeezes Jaspien's hand.  "We'd better clear out, kiddo.  This looks like it's gonna turn ugly."

            Jaspien shakes his head vigorously without taking his eyes off of Heero.  "I wanna watch, Duo."

            The two men square off.  Duo glances around nervously, hoping for someone to confirm that this is too violent for Jaspien to watch.  Taki shrugs as she catches Duo's eye and spies Jaspien.  "He'll see worse on television," she says.

            Duo sighs, feeling completely overruled.

            Heero strikes out, fury fueling his body and numbing the pain.  He takes the blows Wufei delivers without bothering to block any except the most debilitating.  Although he matches Wufei in speed and strategy, in his mind he is still seated at Yokaze's computer.

_            "I want the truth, dammit! What the hell happened six years ago when you attacked the organization?"_

_            "The truth?  No one wants that.  Not even me."_

_            "Yokaze_..._"_

_            "_..._fine_..._  The file is called Zero-one.  It will tell you everything you need to know.  The truth.  Every last ugly bit of it."_

          She hadn't exaggerated.  If anything, "ugly" had been a gross understatement.  How could they have done that to her?  How _dare_ they?!

            Wufei grunts as Heero's fist connects with his stomach.  Heero sends his elbow into the other man's face, but Wufei blocks it and slams his palm into Heero's breastbone.  Heero staggers back a step but refuses to give another inch to his opponent.

            _The training_..._  The surgeries_..._  Oh, God, Yokaze_..._  They left you with nothing but the scars.  And you endured it all for me.  How could you?  How _could_ you?_

            Heero's fist arcs through the air destined for Wufei's temple.  He ducks, sending his own fist into Heero's side.  Heero grunts and responds with a knee to Wufei's exposed abdomen.

            _If only you hadn't destroyed the base_..._  I'd kill every last one of them.  If I ever find a single one of those men named in that file_...

            Wufei kicks Heero's feet out from under him and attacks.  Heero rolls out of range and stands with one fluid motion.  He lunges for his opponent, his heartache more painful than his burning lungs.

            _I'll kill anyone who dares to_..._ anyone_..._ how dare they_..._ how could you_..._ never again_...

            Heero's knuckles crack against Wufei's chin.  The other man grabs Heero's arm and twists it behind his back.  At the same time, his foot sweeps across the mat, upsetting Heero's balance.  The two men crash to the floor.  Heero struggles for a moment before realizing he's been pinned down successfully.  He slaps the mat with his free hand.

            Immediately, Wufei's weight lifts.  Heero looks up as a hand extends toward him.  He notes the slightly puzzled look on Wufei's face and almost grins.  He hadn't thought Heero had been serious about fighting him.  Heero knows Wufei is curious as to the cause of Heero's fury, but is too dignified to ask.  Heero accepts his hand and stands.

            "A good fight, Yuy," Wufei says, breathing heavily.

            Heero nods.  "Thanks.  Appreciate it."

            "Sure."

            They shake hands.

            From the edge of the mat, a small voice says, "You... lost, Hero?"

            Heero turns and is startled to see Jaspien, although he shouldn't have been.  He'd seen Duo.  He should have assumed Jaspien had accompanied him.

            "Yeah," Heero says.  "I lost.  But it's okay."

            Jaspien frowns, not understanding.

            Heero ruffles his hair.  "I got back up again, didn't I?"

            Jaspien offers his mentor a small grin.

            Turning his attention to Duo, Heero asks not unkindly, "What are you doing here?"

            Duo replies easily, "Jaspien was worried about you."

            Heero's eyes thoroughly search Duo's face.  "_Just_ Jaspien?"

            With a shrug, Duo says, "You left in a big hurry and you looked...  _Are_ you okay?"

            Heero shakes his head, suddenly exhausted.  "I don't want to talk about it."

            In silence, Duo extends his hand and grips Heero's shoulder.  Heero savors the weight of his hand, knowing that Duo is offering to listen if Heero _does_ decide to talk.  Heero nods, recalling Duo's promise from the other day...

            _You've still got me_..._ always_...

            In that moment, Heero wonders what his life would be like if Duo had never entered it... and perhaps it's the fatigue, but he cannot call up a single alternative.

**.**

            **Trowa had taken** one look at Heero's homicidal expression and had headed for the stairs.  For Yokaze.  Whatever the two of them had discussed had certainly affected Heero.  Severely.   Making Trowa wonder how Yokaze had fared.  He jogs up the third flight of stairs and rounds the corner, the apartment door in sight.  He shoulders it open, preparing himself for a myriad of moods from her: depression, sullenness, anger, rage, even tears.  But, as he surveys the room, he realizes she is not even here.  He glances at her laptop; the screen is blank.

            "Yokaze?"  He steps away from the door, urging it shut with an absentminded brush of his hand.  Wandering deeper into the apartment, he sees the kitchen is vacant; the bedroom door is open.  And then, as he passes the bathroom, the sound of running water reaches his ears.  Hesitating only a moment, he raps his knuckles twice on the door.  A muffled voice filters through the portal.  Cautiously, he cracks open the door.

            "C'mon in.  The water's fine," she quips.

            Trowa slips into the room and stands opposite the shower.  He leans back against the sink, his gaze riveted to her figure revealed through the fogged glass of the shower door.  He's silent for a long moment, watching.  She rinses her hair and looks at him over her shoulder.

            "Hey," she says.  "What's, er, up?"

            Trowa ignores her saucy pun.  "I saw Heero downstairs."

            "Still livid?"

            Trowa nods.

            "So you came to check on me."

            He nods again.

            "You're so dedicated," she purrs, closing her eyes and leaning into the water again.

            Trowa crosses his arms over his chest.  Is she avoiding the topic on purpose or is she genuinely unconcerned?  "Are you alright?" he asks quietly.

            She opens her eyes and smiles at him.  A real smile.  "It was all old news to me."  She shrugs.  "He'll get over it."

            _Have you?_ Trowa muses.  It can't be a coincidence that Yokaze had sought out water after her exchange with Heero... had sought out something that would leave her feeling clean afterward.

            Studying him in his white Judo uniform, arms crossed, feet bare, she grins.  "Are you going to stand there watching me like an old, smelly pervert or are you going to get in here and give me a, uh, hand?"

            He blinks at her quirky ultimatum.  And feels his lips tug into an answering smile at her impish expression.  He realizes that this is not the time to discuss what had transpired between her and Heero.  He understands that what she wants is to move on, to forget it, to wash it all away.  Trowa looks into her smiling eyes and knows her invitation is no joke.  She is asking him for help, allowing him that much closer.

            In reply, his hands move to the white belt knotted at his waist.  He watches her watching him undress and experiences a moment of hope.  This is only the first step.  Perhaps someday she will confide in him.  Trust him with her secrets.  He does not even realize his lack of hesitation at the thought of sharing his own with her.  He simply accepts the fact that one early morning or quiet evening, he will open up his memories and offer her every last bit of himself.  And trust her to still want him afterward.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 16~**


	18. Chapter 17: Beautiful

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 17: Beautiful**

**.**

            **Heero leans against** the window sill, staring out into the blackness beyond.  He ignores the sound of the shower in the next room and thinks about Yokaze.  Thinks about her strength.  Somehow she had survived, had risen above her training, had built a life for herself.  Somehow she had fought her way back to humanity.  Alone.  She had accomplished this super-human feat.  Once, Heero had thought himself capable of accomplishing any task, overcoming any obstacle; he had thought himself to be that strong.  And then he had found Yokaze... or rather _she _had found _him._

            Heero bows his head, knowing that without Yokaze he would still be the soldier—no more, no less.  She had pushed him into a world where he is no longer in control of his life.  She had taken his hand, refused to let go, and lead him into humanity.  How had she done it?  Broken through the training and the commands?  Heero is uncomfortably aware that he could never have accomplished that task alone.

            And now that he knows the totality of her experiences under the organization's rule, he aches for her as he is in awe of her.  These emotions are new for Heero Yuy.  He's a little surprised that he can even identify them.

            He has changed.

            He is becoming... something other than—_more than—_a soldier.  He turns away from the window and slumps down on the couch.  His hands cover his face as he leans back against the cushions.  Something is happening to him that he doesn't understand... doesn't _want _to understand.  Heero's lips compress into a tight line at that last thought.

            A mere three paces to his right, a figure stands undecided under the archway.  Duo watches silently, feeling like an intruder.  He briefly considers backing into the kitchen, giving Heero his space.  But if Heero had wanted to be alone, even subconsciously, then he would have gone to his room and shut the door.  But he hadn't done that.  He had come to the living room, the common room, the room where people are intended to congregate and relax together.  Duo decides this is an invitation, even though Heero may not be aware that he's even made one.

            He pads silently over to the couch and sinks down onto a cushion a comfortable distance from Heero.  Heero takes two very deep, slow breaths.  Duo knows Heero is aware of his presence, but he still doesn't lower his hands.  Duo takes a breath and opens his mouth.

            "You totally missed it today," he says.  "I told Jaspien about Maxwell Church and Sister Helen and everyone.  Can you believe that kid's never seen a nun before?  Well, I drew him a picture and he seemed pretty happy with that.  So, I got back to work.  It couldn't have been more than ten minutes when I noticed he'd disappeared and I thought to myself, 'Self, Heero's going to disembowel you with a Philips screwdriver.'  Just then Jaspien shows up.  Oh, man.  That kid had found one of your old pairs of spandex shorts... you know the ones you keep around for posterity's sake... and had them on his head.  'Hey, Duo,' he says, 'do I look like a nun?'"

            Beneath Heero's hands, there is a muffled snort.  "That didn't happen," Heero accuses, deadpan.

            Duo grins.  "Swear to God it did.  Jaspien was running around the garage with your shorts on his head and a power drill in his hands."

            "A power drill?"

            "He wanted a ray gun, but that was the best I could do.  Jaspien, the homicidal nun from Hell."

            Heero's shoulders are shaking.  His hands move, revealing one glittering eye, its gaze fixed on Duo.  "You're shitting me."

            "Yeah, you say that now, but you'll be singin' a different tune when I get the photos developed."

            Heero's arms drop to his sides.  He is smiling.  At Duo.  Slowly, he shakes his head.  "I don't understand," he says.

            Duo arcs a brow and tilts his head to the side in question.  "Well, _I _thought a power drill was a logical replacement.  Of course, I didn't give him any drill bits or anything... but there _were _batteries in it... and it kinda sounded like a laser gun from those old cartoons—"

            "How do you do it?"

            Heero had meant to ask him how Duo could nearly always manage to lift Heero's black moods, but the words wouldn't come.  Exhaling, Heero looks down at his hands.  He examines the ache just beneath his sternum.  Once upon a time, Heero would have decided that dwelling on the pain simply wouldn't be worth it.  He would have thrust it all aside and told Duo to just forget it.  But, to his surprise, his mouth opens and words pour out.

            "Today, I asked Yokaze about the organization."

            Duo catches the glance Heero sends his way.  Somehow, that single look manages to capture all of the rage and helplessness Heero feels.  As Heero presents his profile once more, Duo turns toward him, propping his leg up on the cushion between them.

            Heero cannot believe he is talking about this.  He knows Yokaze would never want another soul to know, but he can't seem to stop himself.  Fisting his hands, he says, "I'd never really thought about it.  Even though she'd told me... she'd told _all_ of us that she'd been trained from as far back as she could remember... I never...  I didn't..."

            Duo reaches out, wrapping his fingers around Heero's wrist to gain his attention.  Duo quietly tells him, "I don't think Yokaze would want you to be upset about this."

            Heero takes a deep breath and, almost against his will, focuses on his friend's voice.

            Duo continues, "Don't dwell on what's been lost.  Only pain lies that way.  You've got to concentrate on what both of you _do_ have."

            Turning towards his companion, Heero levels a stare on him that is completely devoid of emotion.  Duo recognizes this look.  It communicates the promise of immediate and vicious retribution.  "If I ever... find them... those men from the organization... I'll kill them."

            Duo's thumb moves over Heero's wrist in a comforting caress.  "That's okay, Heero.  It's okay to feel that way.  If it were Bisho, I'd feel the same."

            "I didn't know," Heero rasps.  "I didn't _want_ to know."

            "I know...  I know..."

            Duo's understanding and acceptance wash over Heero.  He looks up, meeting Duo's gaze.  His hands unclench.  A moment later, he feels Duo's palm slide against his, grasping Heero's hand.

            "No one blames you, Heero.  Especially her."

            Heero's fingers tighten around Duo's hand unconsciously.  He does not even realize he is holding his breath.  He stares into Duo's eyes and silently pleads for help, for compassion, for absolution.

            Duo returns the pressure of Heero's strong grip.  "It's not your fault."

            Pain explodes in Heero's chest.  His throat convulses.  "But I—"

            Very softly, Duo interrupts, repeats, "It's not your fault.  You can't blame yourself for this.  Do you hear me?  Yokaze made a choice.  _Her_ choice."  Duo reaches out again, sandwiching Heero's hand between both of his.  "It's not your fault."

            Heero stares down at the hands wrapped around his.  He closes his eyes and concentrates on the warmth, on the flutter of Duo's pulse just beneath the skin.  Slowly, he draws strength from the contact.  _So much has changed, _Heero thinks, knowing that he would have been incapable of so readily accepting Duo's strength and reassurance a year ago, a month ago, a week ago.

            _What is happening to me?_

            Feeling raw and a little afraid, Heero holds onto Duo in silence.

            "But these hangnails," Duo says brazenly, turning Heero's hand over, "are _definitely _your fault.  When was the last time you had a manicure?"

            Heero's head falls back against the sofa with a sighing groan and small smile.  "...Duo..."

            "I've been looking for someone to test that super sparkle polish on for a while.  I asked Bisho but she refused."

            "Duo."

            "My own sister.  I couldn't believe it.  After all she and I have been through—"

            "Duo!"

            "What?"  Duo glances up, catching Heero mid-silent-chuckle.

            "I'm not going to let you paint my fingernails."

            Duo pauses for a moment, considering.  And then: "Toenails?"

            Still not looking at his friend, Heero intones dully, "Duo Maxwell, obsessive women's health and beauty aids strategist."

            Duo laughs.  "You say that like I'd share my super sparkle with _anyone._"

            Heero stares into Duo's animated face and suffers a flash of sudden, illuminating insight.  _No,_ Heero considers in silence, _there's so much you don't share with anyone_..._ except me._  

            "Heero?"

            _Why, Duo?  Why did you choose me?_

            "Talk to me, buddy."

            _What can I possibly have that would make this friendship worth the effort for you?_

            "You do _not_ want me to sing 'Attack of the Killer Tomatoes,' but I will if you keep looking at me like that."

            _I don't deserve you._

            "This is your final warning, pal."

            _But I need you._

            Duo sucks in a deep breath, preparing to launch into song when Heero reaches across the space between them.  Duo's eyes widen and his breath falters at the feel, the heat of Heero's fingers covering his mouth.  He gazes at his friend, fighting to keep himself from fidgeting as Heero Yuy's uniquely intense stare captivates him.  Duo loses track of time as they sit there, looking at each other.  An entire minute, hour, _day_ could have passed and he wouldn't have realized it.

            And then Heero draws in a shallow breath.  "Duo, I..."

            Duo feels a shiver spin up his spine at the emotion in those eyes.  _Do I want to hear this?_ he wonders.  He stares back at Heero, captured, enraptured.  _Yes!_  And waits.

            Heero fumbles with the words, unsure of exactly what he is trying to communicate.  "I..."  _I'm not ready to talk about this._  A motion over Duo's shoulder saves him.  Heero's gaze refocuses on the doorway.

            "Jaspien," Heero says quietly, pulling away from Duo.  The boy stands in the doorway, hesitating.  "What is it?"  Heero leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and inviting Jaspien closer with a small gesture.

            Timidly, Jaspien approaches and then, with a glance at Heero, climbs onto his lap.

            Duo has to bite his lip to keep from smiling at the surprise on Heero's face.  He also has to blink to keep the prickling heat behind his eyes where it belongs.

            Heero watches Jaspien settle against his chest.  He stares down at the pale, soft hair against his shirt.  "Can't sleep?" Heero guesses.

            Jaspien nods, one small hand grasping the fabric over Heero's stomach.

            Heero discovers his hand rubbing Jaspien's back in soothing motions.  "Shall I sit by you?"

            The boy nods again but makes no move to get up.  After a long moment, he mumbles something.  Duo doesn't catch the words, but evidently Heero does.  The other man nods.

            "All right."  He ruffles Jaspien's hair.  "Go get back in bed.  I'll be there in a minute."

            Duo watches Jaspien slide off of Heero's lap and pad down the hall.  There is an ache in Duo's chest he does not care to examine too closely but he knows it is a response to the changes he detects in his friend.  Since Jaspien's arrival, Heero has become... softer... _stronger._  A hand brushes against Duo's loose hair and shoulder.  With a start, he turns around.  The look on Heero's face clearly tells him that he'd been trying to get Duo's attention without results.

            "Sorry," Duo says.  "What did you say?"

            With a speculative look, Heero repeats, "I said I'd take you up on your offer now."

            Duo blinks comically.  "My offer?" he parrots.

            Heero nods once.  "To help me with Jaspien.  Unless you didn't mean—"

            "No, I was serious.  Whatcha need?"

            Heero looks away.  "He wants me to tell him a bedtime story."

            "Yeah?" Duo says, his tone implying _'And?'_

            Standing, Heero replies, "I don't know any stories."

            Duo opens his mouth to assure him that there's nothing to it but stops himself.  Heero is asking for help; obviously, to Heero, there is not "nothing to it."  Duo rises from the couch.  "Okay.  So what do you have in mind?"

**.**

            **"Shirt.****  Off."**

            Wufei smirks.  Sometimes Taki is surprisingly articulate.  He peels his sweaty tank top from his torso and pulls it over his head.  He returns his gaze to her as she stands in the kitchen archway, ice packs in hand.

            "Sit."

            He sits, unable to not look amused.

            Her gaze glides over his body, noting the darkening bruises.  Taki approaches him and wordlessly presses a small ice pack to his jaw.  She places one of his hands over it, indicating that he should hold it in there.  She traces the outline of an angry-looking welt on his stomach with her finger.

            "He wasn't holding back his punches, was he?" she says, locking gazes with Wufei.

            Slowly, he shakes his head.

            Taki gently presses a second ice pack to his abdomen.  She scowls.  "What crawled up and bit his ass today?"

            Wufei shrugs one shoulder.

            She catches the motion and stares at her lover in open shock.  "You mean you didn't ask him!?"

            Wufei almost laughs.  "No, Taki.  I didn't ask him."

            "But...  What if it had something to do with Duo?"  Severe peevedom shoves her surprise aside.  "Did I or did I not _clearly_ tell you to gather intel?"

            A sleek, black brow arcs.  "Are we on vacation or a mission?"

            Taki sighs heavily.  "You're impossible."  She bites her lip and meets his gaze.  "You didn't get even a _hint?"_

            Wufei chuckles.  His bruised abdominal muscles protest.  "And just when would I have gotten one?  I was a little busy."

            "Excuses, excuses," she mutters.  "C'mon!  You know him better than I do.  You must have some idea of what could set him off like that!"

            Sighing, Wufei takes pity on her.  "I doubt it has anything to do with Maxwell.  They seemed on good terms after the fight."

            Collapsing onto Wufei's lap, she turns the ice pack over against his belly.  "Dammit," she growls.  "I can't tell if anything is going on between those two.  Maybe I'm trying too hard to see it."

            Wufei says nothing and watches Taki think.

            "But where did Trowa go?  He didn't even stay to watch the fight."

            "How should I know?" he says, responding even though he senses that the question is mostly rhetorical.

            Ignoring him, Taki muses, "Duo came by looking for Heero...  Heero came down to the basement so he must have already been in the building visiting someone...  Yokaze!  He was talking to Yokaze, got pissed, then Trowa sees him and takes off..."  Taki gasps.  She looks into Wufei's eyes and, in the wake of her revelation, misses the amused gleam in his gaze.  "Trowa went to go check on Yokaze!  I _knew_ there was something there!"

            Wufei swallows back his laughter as he watches Taki speculate.

            "... so he _does_ care... and Yokaze... well, I'm still not sure about her yet... didn't even look horny in the gym that day... she must be repressing it... no red-blooded woman could live with _that_ and not go into hormone-overload..."

            Wufei arcs a brow at Taki's seemingly factual comment.

            "You know," she says, peeking at the bruise and addressing him suddenly, "I don't want you fighting with Heero anymore."

            "Oh?"

            She nods.  "I've decided he's not a nice boy."  Taki indicates Wufei's various battle wounds.

            A grin pulls at one corner of his mouth.  "I'm pretty sure you gave me at least one of these."

            "I wish," she grumbles.

            The dark brow arcs again.

            "Anyway," Taki continues, "from now on, Heero keeps his hands off the merchandise."

            Wufei chuckles.  "The merchandise?"

            Taki gives him a long, suggestive look.  "Yeah.  The merchandise.  Specifically, _my_ merchandise."

            "_Yours?_"

            She repositions herself on his lap, straddling his thighs.  "Yeah," she tells him.  "_Mine._"  She grins evilly and leans in to bite his lower lip.  "You gonna _try_ to argue with me about this?"

            Grinning, Wufei shakes his head.  "I'll wait for a battle I can win."

            "Smart man.  _Very_ smart man," she breathes against his mouth.  Wufei's hands come up to frame her face as their lips make contact.  Pains, bruises, and ice packs are instantly forgotten.

**.**

            **Trust Heero** "The Perfect Soldier" Yuy to treat a bedtime story like a goddamn mission.  Duo sighs, wrapping a hair band around the end of his braid and then sliding the radio earpiece into place.  He doesn't know which is more pathetic: the fact that Heero had never been told a bedtime story in his life or the fact that Heero feels too insecure to make one up on his own.  Duo is frankly surprised that Heero hadn't refused Jaspien.  The old Heero would have.  The soldier would have.  Duo frowns and wonders at the developing bond between his friend and the little boy.  Wonders if Heero sees himself in Jaspien's lost but hopeful eyes.  Wonders if Heero is trying to make everything right in himself through his efforts with Jaspien.  Wonders if Heero is even consciously aware that he is doing this.

            Duo blows the hair out of his face with a harsh puff of breath.  It's time to lighten the mood around here.  Adjusting the volume dial on the radio's battery pack, he pauses to listen to the sound of Heero's voice as he sits down in the chair next to Jaspien's bed.

            "... so what kind of story do you want to hear?"

            There is a pause over the line.

            "Don't know?" Heero says for Duo's benefit.  "Well, let's see..."

            With a lopsided smile, Duo clears his throat.  _This is where I come in_...  "Linus the Lion," Duo says.

            "How about 'Linus the Lion'?" Heero echoes.

            Duo grins widely as he imagines the _whathehell__?_ look Heero must be trying soooo very hard to hide from his rapt audience.  Duo dials down the incoming volume so he won't get distracted in his narration by Heero.

            Grinning as he pictures Heero repeating his every word—oooooh the power!—he begins, "Once upon a time..."

**.**

            **Heero struggles** to keep his expression under control as Duo's voice growls in his ear.  Without a doubt, this is the dumbest bedtime story to ever be told in the history of bedtime stories.  Even as inexperienced as he is, Heero can tell this tale is not a typical one.  Besides, Heero suspects Duo is making the whole thing up as he goes along.

            "Now with feeling!" Duo directs.

            Heero complies, dutifully repeating, "'Why does everyone make fun of me?' Linus cried into his paws.  'Just because my mane isn't as long as everyone else's?  Well, I'll show them!  I'll grow the hairiest mane they've ever seen!'  Linus wiped his eyes and stood up.  Sniffing, he looked into the sunset and declared, 'I'll find the magical—'"  Heero's eyes widen.  _I am NOT repeating that._  Jaspien looks at him expectantly.  Unable to think of an alternative, he forces himself to use Duo's words.  "'Mustard of Manly Maleness.  That will give me the biggest, most beautiful mane of all the lions!'  And that very night, Linus left his pride behind—"  _Is__ that a pun?_ "—and went out into the jungle..."

            Heero tries not to scowl at Jaspien as Duo continues with the story in between chuckles and gasps of laughter at his own inventiveness.  And the story grows more asinine by the minute.

            In Heero's ear, Duo says, "Linus screeched...  C'mon, Heero, screech!  'Ouch!  Oh, my spleen!'"

            Heero snorts loudly, a smile fighting its way onto his mouth.  He starts to screech as directed when Duo's next line cuts him off.

            "Linus shrieked at the attacking dung beetles, 'What do you want from me?!'  'We want your dung,' one of the beetles said, clicking his pinchers.  Linus replied, worried, 'But, you see, I'm more of a morning pooper and it's late afternoon right now so you're just going to have to wait...'"

            Heero gives up and laughs.  Jaspien stares at Heero for a long moment before pushing back the covers, climbing onto Heero's lap and unerringly pressing his ear to the radio piece.  Holding Jaspien still, Heero dials up the volume of the radio.  After a moment, Jaspien giggles.

            Gingerly, Heero stands, still holding Jaspien up so that he doesn't miss a word of the story.  He softly walks out of the room and down the hall.  He kneels in front of Duo's door and lets Jaspien's feet touch the floor.  With one hand, he palms the door knob and quietly turns it.  As the door swings open, they catch Duo in mid-act, growling ferociously at an imaginary army of dung beetles.

            Jaspien laughs.

           Duo freezes.  He glances behind him at the open door.  Jaspien has collapsed on Heero's chest, wiggling with giggles.  Heero is leaning against the doorframe with tears of mirth shining in his eyes.  Duo stares at Heero, shocked.  Heero stares back, silently laughing.  And then Duo grins.

            "But then," Duo continues with his narration, "Linus spied a little boy out of bed!"  Curling his hands into claws, Duo charges at the pair slouched in his doorway.  "'Raaaaaar!'"

            Jaspien squeals and streaks down the hall with Duo in pursuit.  Heero remains leaning against the door jam, watching until the tip of Duo's braid disappears into Jaspien's room.  He listens to Duo's voice through the radio piece in his ear and makes his way down to Jaspien's door.  What he sees hardly qualifies as a bedtime story: Jaspien is on the bed with Duo "mauling" him.  The boy screeches and shrieks as Duo's fingers tickle his stomach and sides.  Heero leans against the door and watches.  Grinning.

**.**

            **Yokaze shuts down** her computer.  There is no more research to be gleaned from the Internet or satellite network.  The rest of her work must be done in person.  All the arrangements have been made.  Now, to come up with a plausible explanation...

            She stares at the screen, not liking what she is about to do, but unable to avoid it.

            The monotonous ticking of the clock in the silence snags her attention.  It's getting late.  Very late.  And still Trowa hasn't returned.  This evening he'd arranged to meet one of the music students to help with the boy's solo.  The concert is only a week and a half away... but the session should have ended a long time ago.  She wonders if Trowa has stayed away because he'd felt Yokaze needs a bit or personal space or because _he_ is the one requiring solitude.  She contemplates investigating.  After all, she thinks, remembering the shower episode from earlier, she would only be returning the favor.

            A muffled moan seeps through the living room wall.  She glares at the unseen source.  Taki and Wufei.  _Again._  That decides it, then.

            She slips out of the apartment and descends the stairs.  She hears it even before she presses her palm against the music room door.  A flute.  A bittersweet song.  _Triton._  Slowly, she opens the door.  Her gaze fixes on his figure.  Seated in the first chair flutist's seat, eyes closed, his breath whispers softly across the mouthpiece.  Utterly silent, Yokaze approaches him and slides into the chair beside him.  She sits backwards on the seat, facing him, easily able to watch the emotions pulling at his brows.

            She follows the path the melody creates.  Tenderness and pain.  Hope and loss.  Not for the first time she considers what she knows of his past.  The source of these emotions must be a secret one for she cannot identify a portion of his known life that would account for them.  She notes that he is, of course, wearing a turtleneck and jeans.  Once upon a time she might have wondered at his choice of unnecessarily concealing wardrobe.  But listening to this song, it is easy to understand.  Being wrapped in warm fabric from chin to ankle gives a feeling of comfort, of being contained, of being in control of everything within one's self.  To someone who feels so much, holds in so much, hosts such great fears, this costume is the natural choice.

            But Yokaze has never asked him about his secrets and fears.  And she never will.  Long, long ago she had decided this.  Not once has she regretted her decision.

            The song's ending tone fades.  Trowa remains seated, flute poised against his lips, savoring the silence.  And then he draws a breath and opens his eyes.  Meeting Yokaze's gaze, he lowers the instrument.  A long moment passes in silence.

            Then Yokaze leans across him, her hand gripping the side of his seat.  Not breaking eye contact, she tells him, "Beautiful..."  Her lips brush his cheek, the corner of his mouth.  "And sad."

            He raises his hand, brushing his fingers against her mouth, her jaw, her neck.  He says her name.  He draws strength from her understanding gaze.  Slowly, his lips part.  Triton Bloom takes a deliberate breath, ready at last to bare his soul.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 17~**


	19. Chapter 18: The Best Man

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 18: The Best Man**

**.**

            **She'd told him** the recording company wants to re-sign NW to a new label.  All of the band members are going to be meeting on L1 to negotiate.  She'd told him it wouldn't take long; she'd see him again before the week is out.

            She'd lied.

            Although she is relatively sure she would be seeing him before the week is out, she is pretty sure it won't be happening on L2.  Yokaze ignores the heaviness in her stomach, refusing to acknowledge the emotion let alone label it.

            _I must be sure.  Before any more pain results, I must be sure._

            The woman who had left the apartment this morning had worn a simple, silk blouse and navy slacks.  She'd done her hair.  Applied a minimum amount of cosmetics.  That woman had been transformed in the L1 spaceport washrooms.  In her place, a scruffy, travel-worn figure traverses the docking bay.  Her dark eyes scan the ID tags of each ship until a familiar set catches her attention.

            As she approaches, the sound of a motor's dry and painful whine reaches her ears followed a second later by the muffled cursing of the mechanic half-buried in the belly of the ship.  She stops a full pace away from the battle between man and machine.

            "Sounds like your weight converter drive needs to be recalibrated," she says, interrupting the string of muttered obscenities.  "I could give you a hand with that."

            The man's hands pause.  Slowly, he slides away from the exposed wires and hoses.  He eyes the grungy-looking person before him.  At first he thinks the figure belongs to a boy, but somehow doubts himself.  In reality the stranger's sex doesn't really matter.  What matters is that he has to be spaceborne in ninety-three minutes, give or take a second or two.  He demands, "In exchange for what?  Don't have much cash on me."

            "Don't want cash."

            "Well, what do you want?"

            "Berth to C555."

            The mechanic and captain of the ship nods once.  He climbs to his feet and wipes his hands on a rag.  "You've got thirty minutes to show me some progress," he says firmly.

            The stranger's mouth twitches.  "I'll only need ten."

            The captain blinks with surprise.  The stranger crawls into the belly of the ship and gets to work.  Unbelievably, seven minutes and a handful of seconds later, the ship is purring like a kitten.

**.**

            **Wufei's gaze moves from Taki's** insulated form to settle on a long, brown braid.  His dark eyes study Duo's shoulders.  He recalls Quatre's pained expression at breakfast when Taki had mentioned Duo.  The emotion had been masked quickly, but Wufei had seen it nonetheless.  Although he is well aware that Quatre's feelings are his own business, he can't ignore the unresolved issues between the two men.  Once they'd been quite close.  But now, since Quatre's confession and Duo's over-protective insanity...  He tells himself it's not really his business.  They'll work things out... eventually.  But Quatre is too polite to push.  And Duo is too stubborn to budge.  Obviously, _someone _is going to have to interfere.  Perhaps that is why he'd decided to accompany Taki to the garage today.

            He sits in his usual place, book in hand, and waits for Duo to take a break.  It's nearly eleven o'clock before Duo straightens up from the machine and stretches.  Wufei pretends to ignore him as the other man approaches the cluttered table.  As Duo's grease-smudged hand reaches for his usual bottle of water, Wufei takes a breath and, hating his role as self-appointed mediator, makes his move.

            "Tomorrow afternoon Quatre's heading back to L4," he says casually, gaze not leaving the book.  Wufei has the satisfaction of seeing Duo's hand freeze a scant centimeter from the water: his body is instantly tense.

            Duo forces a shrug.  "Yeah?"

            "Hm," Wufei affirms, placing his book face down on his knee and removing his reading glasses.  Slowly wiping the lenses with a pristine square of cloth, he continues, "He doesn't foresee another chance to visit in the near future."

            "We're all busy," Duo says, unscrewing the bottle cap.

            Wufei notes that Duo has turned away from him, discouraging further communication.  Wufei arcs a brow and slides his glasses back in place.  "With feeling sorry for ourselves, I see."

            Duo whirls around to stare at his uninvited inquisitor in shock.

            Carefully resuming his reading place, Wufei says quite clearly, "Or is it guilt, Maxwell?"

            Duo's fingers tighten around the plastic bottle, causing the material to buckle with a few distinct crunching sounds.  "Piss off."

            At this, Wufei looks up.  "No.  He's your friend.  He misses you."

            Still looking mutinous, Duo only glares his reply.

            "Besides, how is Bisho supposed to deal with this?"  Encouraged by Duo's silence, Wufei continues, "You do not like it, but Quatre is a part of her life as well.  Do you wish to put your sister in the awkward position of negotiating between the two of you?"

            "I..."

            "Wasn't thinking of how she'd feel," Wufei finishes for him with a sharp look.

            For a moment, Duo looks as if he might be considering vivisecting Wufei with his bare hands... but then he sighs.  He glances away before smirking in silence.

            "What?" Wufei demands.

            Duo looks at him again, humor and... something else in his eyes.  "_This_ coming from the guy Trowa had to warn not to hurt a woman's feelings..."

            With a meaningful look, he replies, "Things change."

            Duo's smile fades as the double meaning strikes him square in the chest.  For a long moment, he doesn't move... simply thinks.  Eventually, he places the slightly scrunched bottle on the table and grabs a rag.  Wufei turns the page of his book as Duo scrubs at his hands and arms.  Out of the corner of his eye, he studies the determined expression on the other man's face.  Duo shrugs out of his dirty over shirt and grabs his jacket from the peg on the wall.  He slides his arms into the sleeves and heaves the material into place against his neck before pulling his braid out from underneath.

            Wufei continues to study the print in front of his nose as Duo turns and announces to the room at large that he's going out and he'll grab some lunch in town.  As intent as he is on the book in his hands, Wufei does not miss the friendly glance Duo sends his way before closing the garage door behind him.

            Safely ensconced behind the text before him, Wufei allows himself a small smile.  He mutters, "You're welcome, Maxwell."

**.**

            **"Duo...?" ** Quatre blinks at the sight of Duo Maxwell hovering on the other side of the threshold.

            Forcing a small grin onto his face, Duo says, "Hey, Quatre.  You have any plans for lunch?"

            "Um... no, actually.  What's—"

            Duo steps back, hands in his jacket pockets.  He nods toward the stairs.  "Follow me, then.  I know a great place just down the street."

            Frowning, Quatre grabs his coat and hurries after the other man.  He tells himself not to be relieved at Duo's gesture.  For all he knows, Bisho's brother might be planning to have a few more words with him about staying away from the object of his affection.  Pulling on the jacket with angry movements, Quatre reflects on his own decision; Duo need not say anything at all.  He doesn't dare tell her how he feels.  She is so young and he is so... trapped.

            He catches up to Duo in the foyer of the school.  He risks a glance at his friend's face.  His expression is unreadable, but far from furious.  Far from friendly, as well.  Without a word, Duo opens the academy's front door and descends the steps.

            Not a little bit anxious, Quatre follows.  The place Duo had mentioned turns out to be a small, cozy bar and grill just a few blocks away.  They find a table and place their orders.  As the bartender disappears with their menus, Quatre forces himself to look at Duo and wait.

            Duo fidgets with the paper napkin and silverware beside his placemat for a very, _very_ long minute.  Finally, he says, "What are your intentions toward my sister, Quatre?"

            Resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest, he replies slowly, confidently, "We're friends, Duo.  Just friends.  I meant what I said.  I want her to be happy."

            Duo nods, fingers toying with his spoon.  For another long moment, neither man says anything.  And in that long moment, Duo lets himself recall how Bisho had gazed at Quatre in that photograph, how she'd smiled whenever Quatre had spoken to her last Christmas, how she constantly strives to coax a laugh out of Duo's old friend.  Duo sighs.  "That's just it, Quatre.  You make her happy.  What would you do if she wanted..."  Why is this so unbelievably hard to say?  "...more?"

            Quatre automatically opens his mouth to reply, then closes it again.  Duo deserves honesty.  He considers the question.  "I don't know, Duo.  I don't think I'd make a very good... companion.  I mean I'm so busy.  When would I have the time?"  Quatre shakes his head.  "She deserves someone who will be able to put her first."

            Duo looks up, meeting Quatre's sincere gaze.  A smile pulls at the edge of Duo's mouth.  A real smile.  Quatre relaxes marginally.

            "I can't say I like the idea of my sister and you..."  Duo leans his elbows on the table.  "But that's just my over-protective older brother persona talking, trying to keep her from getting hurt."

            Quatre takes a breath, preparing to speak but Duo holds up his hand, halting him.

            "With that said, I realize that someday Bisho is going to get serious about someone.  And if that someone happens to be you..."  Duo studies Quatre's uncharacteristically nervous expression.  He takes a breath, fortifying himself and offering up a genuine grin.  "Then, I can't honestly think of a better man for her."

            Quatre stares, mouth agape, at Duo.

            "You underestimate yourself, Q-man," Duo continues, eyes sparkling with mirth at Quatre's flabbergasted face.  "You don't put her second to anything."

            "D-duo?"

            Duo leans back in his chair.  "I'm not blind, although I've certainly been acting the part.  I've been noticing it for a long time now.  You think the sun rises and sets on her."

            Quatre instinctively starts to deny this, but looks into Duo's eyes and shuts his mouth.  After a moment, he inquires, "Does it bother you?"

            Shrugging, he says, "Of course, but that's my problem."

            "Duo..."  Quatre gropes for the right words to reassure him.  "I don't want to take her away from you.  I'd never intend—"

            "I said it's alright, Quatre," Duo softly but firmly interrupts.  "I understand.  And it's my own insecurity that makes me jealous of the connection between the two of you."  Solemnly, he continues, "It's not your problem.  I won't _make _it your problem.  I can be adult about this.  Really.  I just needed... time to... adjust."

            More than a little uncomfortable, Quatre surveys the bar.  "The way you're talking...  Don't you think we're being a bit presumptuous discussing this without Bisho's opinion?"

            "Maybe," Duo acquiesces, but silently thinks that Bisho has already stated her opinion on the matter very clearly.  "I just wanted to let you know what my thoughts were on this.  You're a good man, Quatre.  Don't sell yourself short."

            Quatre stares at Duo, unbalanced by the unexpected praise.  Slowly, an answering smile pulls at his mouth.

            "So," Duo says, a wide, honest smile on his face.  "Are we cool?"

            Quatre's grin widens as well.  "We're cool, Duo."

            "Cool."

            They both sit up as their sandwiches arrive.  Duo glances at the bartender, a ready comment about the excellent timing on the tip of his tongue... but the man nods knowingly in his direction.  Duo grins, realizing the bartender had been standing back, waiting for a good moment to interrupt.  Duo hefts his burger and takes a large bite, not minding that it's not as hot as it should have been.

**.**

            **Bisho pulls** her sunglasses out of her hair and slides them onto her nose.  It's not an overly bright day on C555, but this is the only way to hide her reddened, sleep-deprived eyes.  She takes a deep breath, adjusts the diagrams rolled up under her arm, pastes a smile on her face, and heads for her supervisor.

            _It's show time!_

            After days of wracking her brain, she hopes at least _one_ of her ideas is remotely feasible.  That would almost make up for the stress and insomnia... almost.  She nods to a few familiar interns, engineers, and construction personnel.  She is an arm's length away from her boss who is currently snapping at someone over his cell phone when she sees something that makes her pause.

            She stares at a man donning a delivery uniform, confused.  The sight of a deliveryman is hardly unusual.  They are nearly as plentiful as the construction workers.  She stares at the man in silence, wondering what it is about him that bothers her.  Bisho takes her time studying the man as he wheels a dolly pilled with packages toward the glass and steel entrance of the building.  Her gaze moves over the shoulders, back, hips, legs.  What is her instinct trying to tell her?

            "Bisho?"

            With a start, she realizes her supervisor has finished ripping the head off of his long distance victim and is staring at her.

            "Right.  Yes.  Morning," she greets.  Holding out the rolls of drafting paper, she says, "You wanted these designs today.  I took the liberty of detailing a few different options for that ventilation system."

            Her supervisor unrolls first one page and then another, looking impressed.  As he studies the meticulous plans, Bisho glances over his shoulder toward the deliveryman one more time.  With one hand, he holds the door open and pulls the dolly in after him.  For the first time, Bisho has a clear view of the man's face.  And the man's scarred right cheek.  And then the shadows fall over him once more as he moves deeper into the building.  She frowns.  Either she's going insane from homesickness or she'd actually just seen Yokaze.__

**.**

**~End of Chapter 18~**


	20. Chapter 19: Apprentice

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 19: Apprentice**

**.**

            **Slim, nimble fingers** move over the array of electronic equipment in the perfect darkness, checking the transmitters one last time.  Once she is inside the colony's administration building there will be no opportunity to turn back.  Either the transmitters will work or the mission will have to be aborted.  The latter is not an option.

            As each device is examined it is also named.  Fifteen transmitters.  Fifteen colony administrators.  Fifteen personal computers.  The information necessary to the mission is buried within the circuitry of those machines—machines which are wisely not connected to the network.  The transmitters provide a priceless service: allowing remote access to the host unit.  Although the devices create the door through which a hacker can manipulate a system, they do have their drawbacks.  Two drawbacks, actually.  They are only able to transmit the data encased on the host hard drive if the host unit is receiving power.  And that data can only be downloaded manually to a remote location.

            Working alone means the operation must be carried out in two phases: first, install the devices, and then wait for the users to log in to their computers before downloading the information required.

            Carefully, each transmitter is packaged in the inconspicuous duffle bag.  As each device settles into the bag, a location is recalled, a route mapped to it in silence.  Posing as a deliveryman earlier that morning had provided the opportunity to locate each of the offices containing the machines soon to be victimized.  The bag is zipped closed.  One hand peels back the snug, black sleeve to check the glowing face of a wrist watch.  It's almost time.

**.**

            **Green eyes momentarily** shift their focus to the living room clock.  It's almost time.  But Trowa is in no hurry.  He stands at the window, looking out over the colonyscape, not really seeing it.  He thinks back to that evening in the music room.

            _"Beautiful_..._"_

           She had looked into his eyes as she'd murmured it.  Had she been complimenting him or the song?  _Both,_ he decides.

            _"And sad."_

            In that moment, she had told him something that had given him strength.  She had assured him that she is aware of his imperfections.  Aware and accepting.

            He had drawn in a breath.  He had been ready to tell her everything.  But then Yokaze's fingertips had settled over his lips, halting his words.

            _"Don't."_

He'd gazed at her in quiet curiosity while her thumb had rubbed slowly over his skin.  Soothing.  Her voice had been so soft.  Reassuring.

_            "There are things I will never speak of.  Not because I don't trust you.  Not because I believe it will change your opinion of me.  But because they are _my _dark things."_

            Everyone has at least one dark story, one event that had irrevocably changed the course of their lives.  Having lived through and participated in the war, Yokaze is just as aware as Trowa of how deep a soul's dark shadows can go.

            After a long, still moment, Trowa feels himself fall into his.

            _It is his fault.  The deaths of his fellow mercenaries.  The death of his captain.  He had brought destruction upon the only family he could remember.  He had betrayed them.  How long had he known that the girl he'd saved is an __Alliance__ spy?  He can remember the exact moment of his epiphany.  She'd been perched on the mobile suit he'd been repairing, playing with a small electronic device at the end of her necklace.  It had looked harmless.  An electronic game of some sort.  But he had not been fooled.  She'd crossed his path a little too conveniently, had come with him back to home base a little too willingly._

_            He had known about the transmitter._

_            He had done nothing._

_            And when the dust and blood and debris had settled... in the end... he had been the only one left of the company.  She'd gone back to the __Alliance__, to her sick father and brothers.  And he... he'd turned toward the night sky.  "I'm not Nanashi_..._ I'm a traveler looking for a place to go home to..."_

_            Outer space had called to him.  He had considered trying to get himself hired on a merchant ship, had considered working his way to one of the many colonies, but had dismissed it.  There are too many factors he cannot control, too much risk.  He knows there are only two kinds of people who would hire a child... those with the urge to protect an innocent and those craving to exploit him.  He knows he must make arrangements for his own protection before he can embark on that particular quest.  At the very least, he will need a means by which to protect himself.  He will also need cash, just in case he must escape... or bribe.  Only a fool blindly places his welfare in the hands of another.  Before attempting a journey to outer space, he must be self-sufficient.  At the moment, he has the clothes on his back, an empty ache in his stomach, and nothing else._

_            His gaze moves over the buildings lining the pockmarked street of the small town.  It seems a peaceful enough place.  Safe enough.  He turns back to the darkened shop window and the notice taped to it._

_            "Apprentice Wanted.  Room and board available.  Inquire Within."_

_            He studies the shop.  Perhaps this will be a suitable place for the first stage of his plan.  Perhaps he will be able to gather resources here._

            Trowa blinks, breaking the flow of the memory.  He stares at the clock.  9:07.  He's late.  He plucks his shoes up from beside the door and sits down on the couch to lace them up.  As he does so, he spots the assortment of small notes scattered over the coffee table.  A small grin nudges at his mouth.  He re-reads his lover's chaotic penmanship.

            The morning before, he'd found a note in his usual coffee mug: _Hot stuff._

            And inside his shoe: _Nice._

            Taped to his laptop: _Touch me._

            Wedged next to his shampoo bottle: _Lather up.___

            Resting on top of a dish of left-overs in the fridge: _Yum_..._ oh, and the food's good, too._

            By the time he's finished with his shoes, he's smiling.  He stands and moves toward the door; Quatre is probably waiting breakfast on him.

**.**

            **Taki has many **strange rituals.  One of which is to visually document each setting in which she and her lover have... enjoyed each other.  Half-dressed, Wufei watches her as she eyes her current predicament.  The chair they had thoroughly abused the night before crumples once again as she attempts to prop it up.  Toweling his hair dry, a thought occurs to him.  He glances at the clock.  Perhaps there is enough time before Winner's farewell breakfast.

            He strides over to her.  "What seems to be the problem?"

            "Inferior ergonomic design," she grumbles.

            "Anything I can do to help?"  A tiny smile tugs at his mouth as he waits for her to stumble across the idea he's already discovered.

            Her hands still.  Her gaze roves to his.  She smiles.  "Have I told you today how much I love you?"

            He smirks.  "Just get the rope, Taki."

            Her expression turns feral.  "Yes, dear."

**.**

            **"Hey, Jas!"** Duo leans out of his bedroom doorway, brush in hand and calls up the hall, "Let's go, buddy!  We're gonna be late!"

            A motion in the hall diverts Duo's attention.  He spies Heero, dressed and ready to go, staring at him from beneath the kitchen archway.

            "What?" Duo asks, noting Heero's thoughtful expression.  Well, in all honesty, most people would call that look a glare, but after years of friendship, Duo likes to think he can discern a confused-glare from a thoughtful-glare from a homicidal-glare.

            "You're going to Quatre's this morning?" Heero counters.

            "Yeah.  Is that a problem?"

            Heero shakes his head slowly.  Duo struggles with the last of the tangles in his hair.  "I didn't think you'd want to... not after the other day..."

            Duo sends a sheepish expression at his friend.  "Er, yeah, well...  I did, um, overreact.  Quat and I have, ah, worked everything out."

            Heero blinks.  "When?"

            With a shrug, Duo tosses his brush in on the bed and starts plaiting his hair.  "Yesterday.  At lunch."

            "Hn."

            "I'm ready, Duo."

            Duo glances down at Jaspien, his hands still working methodically through his hair.  "Cool, man.  Let's go.  I can braid on the fly."

            Heero listens to Duo prattle on about the people Jaspien is about to have breakfast with while he locks the kitchen door behind them.  As they begin the moderate hike toward the academy, Heero trails behind the man and boy, watching Duo's slim fingers mold the still-damp tresses.

            A frown creases Heero's brow as the mass of hair before him is pulled over Duo's shoulder and out of sight.  Inexplicably, he wonders about Duo's confessions the night of the party.  Had it only been a week ago?  Heero shakes his head.  Yes, only a week.  But it seems like so much longer.  Yet, in that week, Duo has not given Heero any indication that he'd meant what he said, that he'd even meant to kiss him.  Perhaps his inebriation that night had allowed him to confess an old attraction.  Perhaps Duo has since moved on, no longer feels that way.

            At the thought, something inside Heero's chest tightens and aches.

            "Hey, Heero, you still kickin' back there?"

            Heero snorts.  Duo tosses his now finished braid over his shoulder and Heero's reflexes assert themselves.  He grasps the tail before it can smack him in the face.  Giving Duo's rope of hair a tug, he growls, "Pay attention to where you swing this thing."

            Duo grins mischievously over his shoulder.  "I _was_ paying attention."

            Somehow, Heero's replying glare isn't quite up to par.  He follows Duo and Jaspien up the steps of the academy and through the heavy doors.  Less than a minute later, they find themselves being pulled into Quatre's apartment.  Duo settles Jaspien at the table next to Heero and glances around the room.

            "I suppose Wufei hasn't arrived yet?" he says to the room at large.

            "I haven't seen him yet," Kathy answers.

            "Hm."  Duo bends to nudge Jaspien's shoulder.  "Hey, I gotta go find Wufei.  You watch Heero for me, okay, Jas-man?"

            At Jaspien's other elbow, Heero smirks in silence at Duo's request.  Jaspien nods solemnly.

            "Be back in flash," Duo says, slipping back out the door and into the hall.  He jogs up the stairs and raps a knuckle on the door before him.

            Wufei's muffled voice invites him in.  "It's open."

            Duo twists the knob and shoulders open the door... and stops.  Of all the things he could have imagined seeing on the other side of the door, this is... not one of them.  "Wufei?"  Duo notices that his voice sounds a bit... strangled.

            Calmly, Wufei looks up from the book in his hands and over the rim of his reading glasses at his friend.  "Yes, Maxwell?"

            Duo takes a moment to assure himself that he isn't hallucinating.  Yes, he decides after a long moment, that _is_ Wufei and he _is_ tied to a chair.  He examines the ropes around Wufei's chest and ankles.  "Am I, um, interrupting something?" Duo inquires cautiously.

            Expression perfectly bland, Wufei says, "Why would you think that?"

            "Er..."

            "You wanted something?" Wufei prompts, finding it increasingly more difficult to hide his mirth at Duo obvious discomfort.

            "I, ah, just wanted to thank you."

            "For what?"

            Duo grins wryly, momentarily forgetting the fact that his friend is half-naked and bound to a rickety chair.  "For verbally kicking my ass yesterday."

            Wufei allows himself to grin.  "My pleasure, Maxwell."

            Duo nods.  "Um, yeah, well...  Do, ah, you want some, er, assistance... there?"  Duo gestures to the ropes.

            "No thank you," is the courteous reply.

            Duo hesitates in the doorway.  "You are coming downstairs for breakfast, right?"

            "Of course."

            "Okay, then."  Pause.  "See you there."

            Wufei watches the door close and finally allows himself to smile.

            "What the hell are you grinning at?" Taki says amicably, emerging from the bedroom with her favorite pencil and sketch pad in hand.

            Wufei informs her, "We just weirded out Maxwell."

            Taki blinks at him then turns to a fresh sheet of paper.  "We did?  How the hell did we manage that?"

            Wufei smothers a chuckle.  Only Taki would find nothing amiss with this picture.  "I have no idea."

            She surveys her lover and the chair he is holding together with a critical eye.  "It must have been the book."

            Wufei arcs a brow.  "I've never known the sight of Lao-tsu's complete works to frighten anyone."

            "Scares me," she says flatly.

            And Wufei can't help himself.  He laughs.

            The sound filters out into the hall where Duo, having run into Trowa, pauses.  At the odd look on the other man's face, Trowa addresses him, "Something wrong?"

            Duo sends an apprehensive glance at the closed apartment door over his shoulder and shudders.  "Man, you have _no_ idea."

            Trowa arcs a brow.  If the semi-traumatized look on Duo's face is any indication, he should be glad to have _no idea._

            Duo turns and flees down the stairs.

**.**

            **Heero surveys** the crowded room.  He's mildly curious about Duo's slightly flushed face, but is more interested in Trowa's arrival.  He's alone.  Heero keeps an eye on the door and waits.  Approximately fifteen minutes pass before the door opens again and Taki and Wufei enter.  Duo's blush darkens and Wufei looks entirely too amused.

            "Shall we eat?"  That, from Quatre.

            Trowa, wordlessly, takes a seat.  Heero can contain his question no longer.  "Shouldn't we wait for Yokaze?" he asks quietly.  For as soft as his voice is, it somehow manages to cut across the conversations that fill the room.

            Lifting a brow, Trowa tells him, "That might take awhile."

            "What do you mean?"

            Trowa gives Heero a small frown.  "She's not here."

            "Where is she, then?" Heero manages to growl.  His heart starts pounding in his chest.

            "L1.  Something to negotiate with NW's label."  There's a telling pause.  "She didn't tell you," Trowa observes, his entire body still.

            Duo speaks up.  "She called the other day and said she still had some research to do.  She didn't say anything about..."  One by one, the faces in the room change as they realize they've been duped.

            Taki moans, dropping her head into her hands.  "Not again."

            Heero meets Quatre's wide eyes.  "I need to use your computer."  And Heero's voice, more than Yokaze's lies, communicates the urgency of the situation.

            Quatre gestures toward the machine.  As Heero slides into the chair behind the keyboard, Duo loops and arm around Quatre's neck.  "Quatre, dude, your breakfast parties are acquiring some seriously disturbing karma."

            Heero dials the first of the numbers he's memorized and waits for Jarret to answer.  Silently he scowls and prays, _Please don't let me be right_...

**.**

**~End of Chapter 19~**


	21. Chapter 20: Picking Up the Trail

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 20: Picking Up the Trail**

**.**

            **Heero's instincts** had been right on.

            There had been no label negotiations.

            Yokaze had lied.

            And he didn't know why.

            But Heero did.  And he wasn't talking.

            Trowa hides his frustration by running another diagnostic check on the shuttle.

            She'd gone to great lengths to hide her true mission from them.  She'd even flown to L1 before disappearing.  Had Trowa been alone in trying to find her, he might not have succeeded.  But Heero had known her destination.  After five minutes on Quatre's computer, he'd announced it: C555.

            Quatre had offered Bisho's insights.  Jaspien had paled and shivered until Duo had pulled the boy onto his lap, into his arms.  Duo himself had looked very unhappy at the thought of his sister in the path of potential danger.  And himself... Trowa admits he hadn't been thinking very clearly.  He'd found himself up, out of his seat, and opening the apartment door the instant Heero had shared his suspicions as to her whereabouts.  And, once again, it had been Quatre who had stopped him from doing something rash... like hijacking a shuttle.

            "I have a plan," he'd said.

            And now, after twenty-four grueling hours of waiting, he is co-piloting it.  Heero had enjoyed the wait just as little as Trowa, but, in the end, they had all agreed that this plan had held the least risk for blowing Yokaze's cover, whatever it is.

            The computer screen in front of Trowa blinks, disgorging the results of the scan.  All systems are operating at maximum efficiency.  He leans back in his seat and folds his arms across his chest.  He should have known that one of Quatre's personal shuttles would be a smooth ride.  Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Heero fidget with the collar of his Winner Enterprises flight uniform.  Duo had already abandoned his tie and the first two buttons of his shirt are undone.

            This is their plan: Quatre, having arranged several meetings with the C555 officials to negotiate future commercial trade contracts, plans to spend a few days touring the colony accompanied by his personal assistant, Wufei Chang, and his flight crew consisting of Heero, Trowa, and Duo.  Hopefully, Yokaze will approach them before they are forced to start searching for her.

            He casts his gaze once more about the cockpit.  Duo is silent, staring out into space, twisting his tie between his hands.  Heero is glaring at the shuttle controls.  Trowa sighs silently and reluctantly closes his eyes.

**.**

            **_Their names are_**_ Johan and Iris Bender.  He glances around the interior of their shop.  Watches the sunlight from the display window trickle down and kiss the sleek, metallic surfaces scattered on shelves and shown in glass cases._

_            "So, that's the job," the old man says, his dark eyes returning to the applicant.  "What do you think, lad?"_

_            The boy with only the clothes on his back, studies a silvery, polished flute.  One of several in the shop.  Slowly, the boy nods.  "I'll do it."_

_            The old man smiles kindly.  At that moment, his wife reappears with a tray of tea and cakes.  And one cup of hot chocolate for the boy.  He does not tell them that he's been drinking coffee for longer than he can remember.  He does not tell them that they've hired an ex-merc.  He accepts the chocolate and slice of cake.  Accepts their assumption of him.  A war orphan.  A child.  He's never been a child before.  He'd like to try it._

_            He scolds himself.  He must remember his plan.  Space.  He needs money before he can go to outer space.  This is only temporary._

Don't get too comfortable, Nanashi,_ he tells himself.  _And don't trust too much.__

_            But as the weeks pass and he learns to mold the molten metal into candlesticks and platters, learns to repair and weld, his resolve begins to weaken.  Johan and Iris truly are kind, good people.  She teaches him how to make cakes and frost cookies, an unnecessary skill by a soldier's standards.  And Johan teaches him how to appreciate the things he creates, an impossible achievement for someone who only destroys.  Still, as rich as his life has become under their roof, he could have left at any time.  He could have pulled on his coat and walked out the door._

_            But he hadn't.  He'd stayed.  And then, one evening, something happens that changes everything for him._

_            Johan sits down across from him at the chess board.  They'd started playing after dinner in the evenings.  Johan is happy for the company; Iris has never really cared for the game and Johan has missed playing.  In the past, he'd had no particular preference for the game.  In fact, it reminds him of his mercenary skills too much.  But it pleases Johan, so he plays.  That should have been his first warning; he is getting too close, too involved in these people's lives.  He should have realized the danger._

_            But he hadn't._

_            And then, instead of reaching for a pawn, Johan holds out a long, gleaming flute to his apprentice._

_            "I've seen the way you look at it," Johan tells him with a knowing smile.  "It's time I taught you how to play it."_

_            And he does.  Every evening, Johan tutors him in music until the boy can read the strange, black marks across the quintuple lines, until he can understand the Italian instructions: __Largo__, Pianissimo, Adagio, Con Brio_...__

_            By then, he couldn't just leave.  Not anymore.  Johan and Iris... they'd begun to really care about him.  And he'd begun to care about them.  Space seemed further and further away.  And he hadn't cared._

_            But he should have._

**.**

            **Quatre stares** out the window the shuttle, watching their final approach to C555.  Everything has been arranged.  With a great deal of publicity.  He'd made no effort to hide the fact that he'd suddenly decided to visit this new colony.  A personal visit from Quatre Reberba Winner to a developing colony is certainly a newsworthy event.  One that hopefully has not escaped Yokaze's attention.  This is the only way he can think of alerting her to the arrival of the cavalry.

             He's even moderately surprised that everyone had so readily agreed to his idea.  But he isn't new to surprises.  And lately, most of them have been delivered by Duo.  First there had been that soul-baring luncheon.  And then there had been his reaction to Quatre receiving personal communications from Bisho while Duo had barely heard from her.  Quatre had debated—for all of three seconds—the feasibility of not telling them about Bisho's observations.  Bisho sending him lengthy messages, some of which containing her anxieties, could be very badly received and interpreted by her brother.  But Duo had merely nodded, absorbing the information.  Still, Quatre had seen the look on his face, brief but there; he'd been a little hurt by his sister's reluctance to share her concerns with him.  The expression had disappeared a second later.  And when Duo had met Quatre's gaze, he had sensed no animosity or blame.

            Watching the docking process from the window, Quatre begins to unconsciously smooth his tie and adjust his cuffs.  A small grunt from the seat beside him draws his attention.  He glances up in time to see Wufei attempting to heave Quatre's briefcase into the overhead compartment.

            "Sorry, Wufei," Quatre tells him, feeling a twinge of pity for his newly elected personal assistant.  "I tried to keep it light, but—"

            "But there are certain precautions we must take," Wufei interrupts, finally wrestling the baggage into the awkward space.  "And if you are known for carting a fifteen-kilogram briefcase around to your negotiations, then so be it."  Sliding back into his seat, Wufei adjusts his glasses.  Although they are meant for reading only, they do lend a great deal to the "assistant" persona.

            "Just remember, Wufei—"

            "Not to act like a Preventer," the other man says with a wry grin.  "I'll do my best to be a good, subservient, Winner Enterprises International peon."

            Quatre snorts rather rudely at Wufei's flat declaration.  "You?  A peon?  There's a reach."

            "It'll be just like Halloween," he says with a gleam in his eyes.

            Shaking his head, Quatre chuckles.  Who would have imagined Wufei—with his air of strict conformity to tradition—enjoying a crude (and often times vulgar) holiday like Halloween?  What had Taki done to him?

            The cabin door opens and Duo peeks out at the shuttle's two passengers.  Adopting a self-righteous air, he saunters over.  "We are beginning docking procedures.  Please check to be sure your tray tables and seats are in the up-right, locked position."

            Wufei rolls his eyes.

            Quatre quirks a brow.  "You've always wanted to say that, haven't you?"

            Duo winks.  "You know it, man."  Without preamble, he takes a seat across the aisle and buckles himself in.

            "You're not going back to the cabin?" Wufei asks mildly.

            Duo shrugs.  "They don't need me in there."

            Quatre's expression turns sympathetic as he senses what Duo won't say.  The tension in that cockpit must be overwhelming, especially for someone with no distractions from his own thoughts.

            "Don't worry, Duo.  Bisho's fine.  Yokaze won't let anything happen to her."

            Duo blinks once in surprise then grins ruefully.  "Am I that obvious?"

            Quatre shakes his head.  "I've got a sister there, too, you know."

            "Sorry, Q."

            "There's nothing to be sorry for.  Besides, this could all turn out to be a perfectly harmless situation.  We don't really know, one way or the other, at this point," Quatre reminds his comrades.

            Duo laughs.  "Yeah.  What would a Yuy, trained to within an inch of perfection, be doing on a colony suspected of programming the next generation of terrorists?"  The sarcasm is weak; Duo is reminded of the boy he'd had to leave in Kathy and George's care.  Damn, he just can't win: go to Bisho and leave Jas, or ignore Bisho and stay with Jas.

            Hell.

            Had life always been this bloody difficult?

            Almost unwillingly, Duo recalls the wide-eyed look of fear Jaspien had offered him after he'd told him they'd be leaving.  Just for a little while, he'd said.  George and Kathy are really nice folks, he'd said.  They'll even let you irradiate aliens in their apartment...  But Jaspien had still given him that _look_...

            "Don't worry about Jaspien," Quatre interjects quietly.

            Duo starts.  "Dammit, Q!  Quit reading my mind!"

            Wufei smirks.  "No, worry about him," the man differs.  "I think Taki's going to try to get George to teach her how to cook."

            "Again?" Quatre says with no small amount of horror.

            "Again," Wufei confirms.

            "Hell," Duo practically spits into the exchange.

            Wufei only nods once in agreement.

            The shuttle's reverse jets roar as the engines strain to bring the vehicle to a stop.  Glancing out the window, Quatre sees only the interior of a docking bay.  "We're here."  He turns to look at Wufei.  "Remember—" 

            But his words are stalled by a slim hand rising to interrupt him.  Wufei says, deadpan, "Peon.  I've got it."

            Across the aisle, Duo snorts with suppressed mirth.

           Once more, the cabin door opens.  Trowa appears.  "Docking procedures are complete," he informs the passengers.

            At this, Duo rises to help with the door.  As it swings open, Wufei heaves the briefcase out of its cubby hole and moves aside for Quatre to precede him down the aisle.

            "Thank you for flying with us today," Duo chirps in an overly-bright falsetto, "Remember our frequent fliers accumulate points which can be redeemed for valuable merchandise..."

            Quatre swallows a bark of laughter.  Wufei growls.  Even Trowa smirks.  And then the businessman and his assistant are exiting the shuttle.  Not surprisingly, there is a welcoming committee waiting for them.

            After a glance in their direction and a moment of watching Wufei successfully juggle the briefcase and a pc pen tablet to shake hands, Trowa says, "Let's lock down."

            Duo grins and follows.  "Wufei makes a pretty good peon, don't you think?"

**.**

            **"It's just us,"** Quatre says as he shoulders open the hotel room door.  He pointedly ignores the sounds and sights of three men re-holstering their firearms and returning to their respective offices in the suite.

            Wufei closes and locks the door behind him.  Immediately, wordlessly, he shoves the bitch of a briefcase at Quatre.

            Duo chuckles.  "I don't think Wufei wants to play anymore, Q."

            "Shut up, Maxwell."

            "I've confirmed her arrival," Heero says from behind his laptop.  Quatre and Wufei (who is in the process of shedding his navy jacket and loosening his tie) approach the other man.  Heero says nothing and simply runs the security camera feed he'd managed to hack.

            "You're sure that's her?" Quatre says, squinting at the seedy-looking drifter.

            "Just wait."  Heero closes that window as the figure moves out of view.  A moment later, a second clip is running.  The drifter slips into the spaceport bathroom and emerges a few minutes later as a sleek businesswoman.  Although she never completely turns toward the camera, it _is_ Yokaze.

            "That's what she wore when she left," Trowa contributes for the newcomers' benefit, watching the pilfered video with his companions.

            "So, she got berth as a mechanic..." Quatre muses.  What were the odds of a ship heading this way in need of her...?  Oh, of course.  "She probably sabotaged the ship in the first place," he states flatly.

            Heero nods.  "That's most likely."

            Quatre looks at Trowa.  "Have you found anything else?"

            He nods.  "I've managed to gain access to the security system in the colony's administration building.  Approximately fifty-two hours ago, a deliveryman entered the building and did not exit until forty-eight minutes later."

            "Can you be sure it's her?"

            Wufei snorts.  "The 'deliveryman' cover isn't very creative."

            Trowa shrugs.  "Hiding in plain sight.  There were a dozen delivery personnel going in and out of that building during the day."  Before Quatre could ask how he can be sure this particular one is Yokaze, Trowa leans down and runs a video clip of his own.  At first, Quatre doesn't see anything to suggest the identity of the person.  It is odd that he (or she) has turned awkwardly away from the camera, a hat shading the features of that face, but still...  It isn't until his eyes scan the scene around the figure that he sees what must have tipped Trowa off.

            "That's Bisho."

            "Looking like she's seen a ghost," Duo confirms from behind the small group.  "At that angle, she would have had a view of the right side of Yokaze's face."

            Quatre nods.  "The scar."

            "It is very distinct," Wufei says neutrally.

            "Any leads on what she was doing in that building in the first place?"

            Duo grins.  "Trowa's got more surveillance footage of her prowling the halls.  According to the blueprints and office assignments I've been able to, er, barrow, she was marking the head honchos."

            "We don't know when she went back and broke into their offices."  This from Heero, before Quatre can ask.  "Probably later that evening."

            Duo nods.  "I don't think she was lying about needing to do research.  It was just that pesky little detail about _location_..."

            "Is she still here?"  Quatre directs his comment to Trowa, who gives him a one-shouldered shrug.

            "As near as the three of us have been able to determine, yes."

            Rubbing his forehead, Quatre attempts to puzzle through all of this.  He can't help but feel that there is something that he's missing.  He glances at Heero.  "You told us she came here because she suspected that Jaspien had been trained by someone on this colony... someone who is offering a reward for his return."

            Slowly, Heero nods.

            Quatre presses.  "What _aren't_ you telling us?"

            Silent, Heero turns away a pulls a piece of paper from one of the pockets of his laptop case.  He hands it to Quatre and crosses his arms over his chest.  "Jaspien drew that."

            Quatre senses the presence of the others as they lean closer to examine the image.  All of them still as realization washes over them.

            "Yokaze probably suspects an organization very similar to the Barton Foundation or some remnant of the institutions that trained us to be responsible."

            "Why didn't she say something?" Duo demands, fists clenching at his sides.  He'd flown the zero system before.  He _knew_ what it could do to a person.  _Knows_ what it must have done to Jaspien.  Not for the first time, he wishes he hadn't left the boy behind on L2.  He doesn't doubt that George and Kathy are good people.  It's just that they can't possibly understand...

            Heero turns back to his laptop.  "It's fairly obvious, isn't it?  She wants us to have a chance at normal lives."

            Trowa's eyes narrow.  Heero is still holding something back: another, more personal reason.  He recalls the determination with which she'd gone after The Organization on L1 all those years ago.  The dedication with which she conducts her secret and self-appointed missions.  Could there be a score yet to settle?

            Duo swears and sighs.  "C'mon, guys.  It's getting late.  We'd better order some room service before the kitchens close."

            Trowa lingers with Heero at the other man's computer.  "What else aren't you telling, Heero?"

            Heero leans back in his chair.  It is pointless to pretend ignorance this close to their goal.  "Do you remember your training, Trowa?"

            "Of course."

            "She told us once that she... that they used her to test the effectiveness of the programs."

            Trowa nods.

            "Think about that: they spend months programming her and then they discover a major flaw.  They have to start all over again.  Doing their best to erase... everything."  Heero looks up and meets Trowa's eyes.  "They never tried to make me forget the life I lead before I was indoctrinated.  I _had_ a past."

            Trowa's jaw clenches.  "Of course," he says, quietly.  He feels like such a fool not to have seen it sooner.  "I see."  They had taken her past, had modified her memories in order to reinstall the newest versions of the training programs.  It is little wonder that she is obsessed with rediscovering pasts.  "How far back does she remember?"

            Heero looks away.  "Around the time I started training.  She remembers that.  Nothing else before it."

            Trowa's breath hisses out.  The first twelve years of her life... or more... gone.  It's not just a score to settle; it's not that simple.  "She told you this the night you sparred with Wufei?"

            Mute, Heero nods.

            Trowa opens his mouth to ask if there's more—more pain, more darkness, more secrets—but he sees the answer in Heero's eyes.  This is only the tip of the iceberg.  Trowa nearly bites his tongue to keep from asking.  The rest is for Yokaze to tell.  Heero had only been pointing out the logical conclusions to an admission she'd made years ago.

            "Hey, we're ready to call down an order, over here.  What do you guys want?"

            Trowa sighs and steps back as Heero stands.  Duo tosses them the menu before they cross the room.  Glancing at its contents, Trowa automatically chooses the dish with the most nutritional value.  After his enlightening discussion with Heero, the thought of eating makes him feel vaguely nauseous.  But they are on a mission.  Trowa does not have the luxury of skipping a meal.  Other lives may depend on his ability to stay alert and rested.

            He'd forgotten how much he hates having a mission.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 20~**


	22. Chapter 21: Desserts

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 21: Desserts**

**.**

            **Approximately one hour** has passed since Duo had called for room service when there is a knock on the door.  The five men exchange a look.  Room service had already come and gone... thirty-five minutes ago.  The person on the other side of that door _could_ be coming by to collect the dinnerware... but then again, they'd left them outside in the hall after they had finished.

            Quatre moves first.  It is _his_ penthouse suite, after all.  The others slide out of sight and listen as the door opens.

            Quatre's normally polite voice is oddly not forthcoming.

            A low murmur tumbles into the room.  Heero tenses and leans forward.

            There is the sound of someone shuffling to the side, the sound of the door swinging open a bit further.  An invitation to come in.

            Footsteps muffled by carpet.

            The door clicking back into its frame.

            The dead bolt sliding home.

            And then:  "She's here."

            Quatre comes into view as the others are slowly lowering their guard once more.  Toting her duffle over a shoulder and a grocery bag in her hand, Yokaze emerges from the foyer.

            Heero's relief is immediate.  "What took you so damn long?" he snaps quietly.

            Yokaze grins at the menacing tone.  She moves deeper into the room and begins to set up her own laptop.  "I missed you, too," she purrs.

            "What have you found?" Duo asks, crossing the room to watch her computer boot up.

            "Not much."  She sends him a meaningful look.  "_Yet._  I'm still fishing."

            "What's the bait?"

            She grins.  "Leeches."

            Duo leans closer as her wireless modem connects with fifteen dormant signals.  Ah, transmitters.  "No bites?"

            "Not even a nibble.  But it's the weekend.  Tomorrow should be more interesting."

            Listening to their conversation, Heero relaxes.  Nothing has happened yet.  She's not in danger.  Her cover is still tight.  At the moment, all is under control.

            "What have you got there?"  Duo gestures to the grocery bag she'd set down on the carpet.

            Yokaze grins.  "Dessert."

**.**

            **"That's it!**  N-no more!  I q-quit!"

            "But, George—!"  Taki flinches as the egg-splattered chef slams out of the kitchen and locks himself in the bathroom down the hall.  With a weak groan, Taki slides onto the nearest, blessedly clean stool and contemplates her batter-encrusted hands, forearms, and apron.  Bloody, everlasting hell.  She'd hoped that _this time_ she might actually manage to make something edible before she pissed George off to the point of no return.  She sighs.  So much for that pipe dream.

            A soft _splat!_ snatches at her wandering attention.  She looks up as a second droplet connects with the pristine floor.  Head tilted back, she regards the Rorschach painting printed across the ceiling in brownie batter.  Hm, perhaps she shouldn't have tried to "blend" it in the blender... on turbo... without the lid.

            Something—a not-quite-sound—has Taki turning toward the door.  There stands Jaspien, eyes wide, hands clutching a sheet of paper.  Taki smiles for him.  "Hey, Jas-dude.  Did you finish already?"

            Jaspien holds the drawing close to his chest.  When she'd arrived for her cooking lesson, she'd asked if she could see it when he finished.  In fact, while she'd waited for George to "Taki-proof" the kitchen, she'd even sat awkwardly down in the living room and drawn with him.  She'd discovered how much shorter the black crayon had been compared to its brothers.  It had turned out that it is Jaspien's color of choice.  Taki had smiled and shared with him one of her great secrets: black had been her preferred crayon, too, once upon a time.  It had been a... bonding sort of moment.

            "Can I see it?" she asks, sliding off of the stool.

            With a nod, Jaspien turns the paper around and holds it up for her inspection.

            "Is this Yokaze?  No.  It's Heero, right?"

            Jaspien nods.

            "And he's holding a sword.  And..."  Taki squints and "hums" and "ers."  "And this man in the wheelchair..."  She glances at Jaspien, a teasing gleam in her eyes.  "You've seen Heero beat up handicapped people?"

            Jaspien shakes his head.  "Guess again."

            "Was I close?"

            He hesitates.  "Sort of."

            "Okay..."  Taki studies the drawing again.  "Heero is... trying to steal his chair?"

            Jaspien giggles softly and shakes his head again.

            "Uh...  His horse is sick and he needs a ride?"

            "You were closer the first time."

            Taki sighs dramatically.  "Well, I've used up my three tries.  You tell me what's going on here."

            Jaspien turns the paper around and looks at his masterpiece.  "This is Hero," he says softly, smiling, "and this is The Voice and Hero is going to defeat him."

            "Oh," Taki manages, wondering what the story is behind The Voice.

            Suddenly, Jaspien looks around.  "Where are the brownies?"

            At precisely that moment, another droplet descends from the ceiling and smacks against the linoleum.  Wordlessly, Taki points above them.  She watches Jaspien lean back and blink at the mess.

            "Woah," he says, awed.

            "While you were drawing, I was making that," Taki tells him with no small amount of pride.  "What does it look like to you?"

            Jaspien cocks his head to one side.  After a long moment, he says, "A bug."

            Squinting, she studies the image, attempting to reconcile Jaspien's interpretation and the shape looming over them.  "A bug, huh?"

            "Yeah.  A dung beetle."

            "Hm," Taki replies thoughtfully.  She could sort of see it if she tilted her head to the left, squinted with one eye, and employed her imagination... _all_ of her imagination.  "Well, I used all the brownie batter to make that... dung beetle," she says.  Another drop joins the small puddle in the middle of the kitchen.

            "Are you gonna make some more?"

            Taki considers it.  Dare she risk George's wrath?  But, wait a minute, he'd promised _her_ this lesson, God dammit!  Wrath or no, she isn't leaving until she's made a batch of stupid brownies.  She glances at Jaspien.  "I will if you help me do it."

            He pauses.  Debates.  "Okay."

            Taki grins and points to the vacated stool.  "Sit."  As Jaspien struggles into the seat, she wipes the congealing batter off of the cookbook and hands it to him.  "Read."

            Jaspien looks at the recipe as Taki reassembles her ingredients and utensils.  "Okay, Jas.  Are you ready?"

            He looks up and nods.

            "So, what do I do first?"

**.**

            **It's become something** of a ritual: Trowa and Yokaze cleaning up after a party.  He lifts the empty container of butter pecan from the table and recalls one of the evening's more shining moments.

            _"Duo, be a babe and pass me the boy ice cream."_

_            Duo arcs a brow at Yokaze and glances down at the pint next to his elbow_..._ the only pint within the radius of his arms.  He tosses it across the table.  "Boy ice cream?" he repeats._

_            "Mm," she says, dishing a generous helping out into a plastic bowl.  Quite matter-of-factly, she states, "It's got nuts."_

_            Trowa snorts.  Quatre attempts to suppress a surprised laugh.  Even Heero looks amused.  Wufei's heard this joke before_..._ from Taki._

_            Duo's eyes dance with a sinister gleam.  "Yo, be a peach and pass me the girl ice cream."_

_            It's Yokaze's turn to arc a brow as she picks up the nearest pint.  For a moment, she studies the label, then turns it so that the others can read it.  Black cherry.  "You mean this one?" she asks innocently._

_            Duo grins.  He's not the only one who finds this highly amusing.  A long moment of mirth passes before Yokaze lazily inquires, "And what would you like, Quatre?"_

_            With a toothy smile, the young man replies, "Something neutered."_

            Chuckling, Trowa chucks the pathetic remains of a pint of vanilla—Quatre's ultimate choice—into the trash.

            "Neutered," Yokaze says quietly from behind him.  She shakes her head.  "Sometimes I worry about him."

            Duo saunters up to the open trash bag and grins darkly in agreement.  Yokaze watches the empty pint—cleaned of every last trace of cherry ice cream—tumble from his fingers and into the trash.

            "From the aura of your after-glow, I take it you enjoyed the girl ice cream?" she ventures dryly.

            Duo sighs somewhat wistfully.  "It was virginal."

            A snort echoes out from behind a laptop screen: Heero.

            Yokaze turns her attention to her brother.  "Are you sure you want me to leave you alone with this dairy fetishist?"

            "I'll survive," he assures her flatly.

            "So sure of yourself," Duo comments with a wide, feral smile.

            Heero lifts a single, dark brow.  "Seeing as how I don't require refrigeration, I doubt I'm in immediate danger."  Quickly, he turns his attention back to Yokaze.  "I've finished imputing all of the transmitter frequencies into my pc.  You get some rest."

            Duo falls down into his chair and crosses his arms over his chest.  "Yeah, we've got it all under control."  He sends both Trowa and Yokaze a sharp glance.  "If I see either of you again before seven hundred hours I will be very displeased."  He waves a hand at them.  "Be gone."

            Incredulous, Yokaze returns, deadpan, "Gone, baby."

            Silently, she opens the door and pulls Trowa through it by way of a glance.  She doesn't ask him where his room is as she pads over to the elevator and presses the button to call it up.  As they wait for the doors to open, Trowa studies her in silence from behind the fall of his hair.  He wants to hear the sound of her voice, but can think of nothing to say that does not relate to the mission.  And he would rather not discuss it just now.

            Somehow, she senses his simultaneous hesitation and haste.  "I didn't lie about everything," she tells him quietly, her fingers sliding against his palm.  His hand closes around hers reflexively.  Yokaze glances at him with a small smile.  "I really did expect to see you before the week was out."

            "You don't have to do this alone."  His voice rumbles quietly within his throat.

            Yokaze bumps her shoulder against his.  "I know.  That's why I'm not going to."

            The elevator doors slide open, revealing an empty cab.  Trowa watches her press the button for the correct floor and refrains from comment.  Of course she would know where his room is; she is nothing if not thorough in her research.  As the cables and tracks assist in their descent, Trowa is reminded of another ride in another elevator on another colony: the night he'd found her... and himself again.

            Slowly, he lifts their joined hands.  It had taken them years to get to this point, to fully realize the offer he'd made her then.  But, when he had uttered it, he hadn't really been prepared for all that it would entail.  He does not regret the years in between; they have brought both of them to this moment.

           Yokaze is staring at him, watching what she can see through the veil his hair creates.  He meets her gaze and tells her, "Thank you."

            "You aren't angry with me," she observes.

            His thumb slides over her pulse.  "There are things that you need to do."  The statement applies to both the time they had required to become friends and the lies she had told to start this mission alone.

            Her replying grin is all Trowa needs in order to know that his habit of not pushing for her secrets is the right path.  He can read the thanks in her eyes.

            The cab slows to a halt and the doors open once more.  They meander through the hotel, coming abreast of Trowa's room.  He slides the card into the lock and pushes the door open for her.  Yokaze drops her duffle on the shelf beneath the coat rack and steps into the bathroom.  At first, he thinks she means to use the room but he can see her scouring the fixtures and mirror, looking for evidence of tampering.  The corner of his mouth lifts at the sad reminder: a soldier's habits never die.  He starts checking the living area over.  In mid-search, he hears the gush of water in the bathroom.  He knows that she's found nothing odd and has relaxed, trusts him to alert her if something is out of place in the rest of the room.  The feeling the moment provokes isn't strange so much as it is unexpected.  He'd never noticed how much they'd come to trust each other's judgment and abilities.

            Trowa turns down the bed and changes out of his somewhat rumpled flight uniform.  Yokaze leaves the light on for him and begins to dig through her own bag.  When he emerges, teeth brushed and flossed, she is sitting on the room's other bed.  It is still immaculately made.  He pauses between the two beds, a silent question hovering in the air.

            She glances up from the glowing screen of her laptop to him, to the waiting bed and back to him once more.  Trowa catches the apologetic look and then gazes at the bed behind him, searching for what exactly it is she is silently objecting to.  He studies the pale blue and gray comforter, the white pillows and blanket and linens...

            _White._

            Yokaze carefully sets the laptop on the chair she'd pulled next to the foot of the bed.  "Yeah," she says, feeling his eyes watching her once more.  "It's the white."  She taps in a few commands and adjusts the computer's audio levels.  "They never told me when I'd be going under for another surgery.  I'd go to sleep, thinking it was just another evening, and then, when I woke up, I'd be surrounded by the glaring white of the medical bay.  They never told me what they'd... taken.  I'd just have to wait for the pain to tell me."

            Trowa slides down onto the bed next to her, his silence encouraging her to continue.  This is the first time she's ever voluntarily given Trowa any information about her time spent in L1's rebel base.

            She avoids his gaze by resetting the pc's screensaver display.  Her voice is flat, clinical.  "If I woke up under the white, I'd..."  She shakes her head to clear it and to start over.  "It would rattle me.  I can't afford that right now.  Tomorrow's going to be... busy."  She glares at the screen for one last second.  "I hope."  Those final words are soft, betraying the doubt and fear she is experiencing—that everyone is experiencing—but conceals beneath the humor.

            "I usually don't rest well in hotels.  Why don't you take that one..."  She nods toward the unmade bed, letting her voice trail off.

            Silently, Trowa gets up and addresses the room's thermostat.  Taking this as his assent, Yokaze finally turns off the bedside lamp and lays down.  She's just closed her eyes when Trowa's weight settles smoothly next to her.  She tenses slightly in protest.

            Curving his body around hers, he murmurs against her hair, "I sleep where you sleep."

            His tone leaves no opportunity for argument, so Yokaze turns toward him in the dark, drawing a deep, Trowa-scented breath... and sleeps.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 21~**


	23. Chapter 22: The Mission

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 22: The Mission**

**.**

            **Quatre isn't sure,** but he's fairly positive that Wufei is cursing him in Chinese.  He sends a questioning sidelong look at his assistant.  Scowling, growling, and just generally looking like he'd rather be dealing with a severe case of bowel distress, Wufei glares at the inside of the elevator.  The young man beside him sighs.  Twenty-two floors to go.  Perhaps Quatre should say something?

            "Wufei?"

            That is all the prompting he needs.  "I don't know how you can stand it," he grits out between his teeth.  Dear Gods in Heaven, he wishes he was back upstairs with Duo and Heero.  Or rather, Trowa and Yokaze... Heero and Duo's shift had ended and Wufei had followed Winner out the door just as Duo had started bouncing a soft, stress-relief squeeze ball off of the back of Heero's head, chanting "Beddy-bye, Buddy-boy!" 

            Wufei considers the image.  Yes, he decides, he'd rather put up with Maxwell bouncing fluffy objects off of the back of his head than another day of—the elevator doors open and an assortment of colony officials cordially greet them "good morning"—_this._

            "Suck it up," Quatre mutters out of the corner of his polite smile.

            The... advice pulls an amused grunt from the back of Wufei's throat.  No doubt about it, no one would ever be able to pay him enough to be Quatre R. Winner for a day.  And, by the sound of it, his friend is on the verge of telling his board of directors to take this job and shove it... sideways... with a  great deal of... gusto.

            Wufei allows a small grin to pull at his mouth.  Somehow, knowing that Quatre finds these meetings just as distasteful as he makes the day ahead seem more... bearable.

**.**

            **Heero stares** at the hotel room ceiling, listening to Duo not sleeping in the next bed.  His eyes narrow and he imagines he can see through ten floors to the penthouse suite and the location of his abandoned laptop.  Yokaze had refused to let them out the door with any equipment.

            "You need to rest," she'd said.

            But neither one of them could.

            Although Duo had pestered him about leaving when their shift had been up, Heero suspects Duo hadn't really been tired.  He'd merely wanted to get it over with so he could get back to work by lunchtime.

            Heero takes a deep breath and tries to regulate his respiration.  Tries to relax.  But after more than a half an hour the results are in: nothing doing.

            "You want to talk about it?"

            Heero doesn't turn toward the sound of Duo's voice.  Both of them stare at the ceiling, wishing the clock to tick along a little faster.  Heero opens his mouth to say "No, as a matter of fact I don't" but mutters instead: "The fact that they're training children... makes me think they're related to the L1 rebels."

            Duo nods, his braid brushing against the comforter he hadn't bothered to crawl under.  "Yeah, I can see that."  As far as he knew, none of the other scientists had tried to train an eight-year-old pilot.  Just J.  The bastard.  "When did Yo start training?"

            "She was seven when our father died."

            It isn't really an answer and Duo knows it.  His jaw clenches.  Heero hadn't answered because he hadn't known.  And he hadn't known because _Yokaze_ hadn't known.  _Jesus._

            "If it is the same people from the L1 base, that's going to bring back all kinds of bad shit," Duo settles on saying.

            Heero is very, very quiet.  Duo glances in his direction and frowns at his friend's fierce expression, aimed skyward.  After a long, _long_ moment, Heero says, "Yeah."

            A lot is buried in that single syllable.  "And?" Duo invites, sensing that Heero would _like_ to talk about it but doesn't feel comfortable bringing it up.

            "And if it _is_ L1, after she'd taken on the mission to destroy it..."

            What Heero is trying to say clicks together inside Duo's skull.  _If_ she'd failed her mission... all these kids have been trained because she hadn't done her job... all this pain and suffering... ripping Heero and Trowa and everyone out of their civilian lives... dumping them into another war zone...  She'd see this whole situation as completely preventable and utterly her fault... _if _she discovers a connection to L1.  Oh_, man, this could get real ugly, real fast._  He says, "Shit."

            "Yeah."

            Duo casts about for something to say.  Something to offer as comfort, but something that is _not_ pure bullshit.  "Heero?"  He hears the brush of hair against pillows as his friend's piercing gaze settles on him.  "She won't do anything stupid," Duo hears himself say.  "She can't do whatever she wants with her life.  Not anymore.  She knows she's got to come back to you."  Duo turns, meeting his friend's stare.  "You know that, right?"

            "I..."  Heero blinks his burning eyes.  "I hope so."

            Wordlessly, Duo stretches an arm across the space between the beds.  Before he's opened his hand to Heero, the other man's arm has already begun to stretch out in response.  Duo hooks his thumb around Heero's and clasps his hand.  It's the sort of grip one might use to pull another up over a ledge and onto stable ground.  Duo doesn't try to tell Heero not to worry.  He doesn't tell him that it's stupid to worry about something they haven't even confirmed yet.  He simply lies there, staring at the ceiling, offering him something strong and solid to hold onto.

**.**

            **Indeed, today things are**... busy.

           Trowa leans forward as the computer alerts him to the first active transmitter signal of the day.  It is a quarter to eight.  He can see Yokaze out of the corner of his eye, also downloading information off of the unsuspecting host hard drive.  There is no eye contact.  No conversation.  Nothing with the exception of fingertips connecting rapidly with keys.  One by one, the transmitters do their jobs.  Information from the colony administrators' personal computer systems floods into the hotel suite.

            He has barely enough time to glance at the content before the file has been stored and another download is taking place.  There are memos, lab reports, test results, communication messages, electronic diaries, spreadsheets, and personnel schedules.  And there are fifteen sets of each.  By the time Heero and Duo reappear at noon, Trowa is very glad to have them back.  The download window is only open for as long as the computer the transmitter is attached to is on.  The day is already half over with and Trowa has only managed to download complete sets of data from three computers.

            Lunch is forgotten.  Stiff muscles and aching joints are forgotten.  The time, however, is not.  Trowa glances at his laptop's time display and the muscles along his jaw tense.  He makes a conscious effort to type a little faster.

            As five o' clock comes and goes, the transmitters begin to go off-line.  But by then, between the four of them, they have all of the information that could have possibly been gleaned from the fifteen hard drives.

            Trowa leans back in his chair and listens to the sounds Duo makes as he stretches for the first time in hours.  Now comes the hard part.  Now they have to go through it... _all_ of it.

**.**

            **Heero had complied** the lab reports.  Duo had taken the test results.  Trowa had organized all of the communication files.  Yokaze had evaluated the memos and the diary entries that had been available.  Wordlessly, they had worked and read and pondered, passing each page of information on to the next pair of eyes as soon as it had been seen.  By the time they had finished scouring their finds and began comparing notes, the tension in the air had become so thick that Quatre and Wufei had nearly tripped on it when they'd stumbled through the door.

            "What is it?" Wufei demands, a long day filled with nerve-straining civilities making him incapable of waiting for them to say something.

            Interestingly enough, it is not Yokaze or Heero who speaks, but Trowa.

            "Mission One," he says flatly.

            "So there is something here," Quatre muses.

            Duo sighs.  "Oh, yeah."  He looks up with sad eyes and suggests, "Sit down, Quatre."

            Wordlessly, Heero passes a sheet of paper containing a diagram.  Quatre holds it between himself and Wufei, studying the sparse, succinct notes.  On the far left is a note about the orphans.  Orphans who are tested to determine their reaction times, memory retention, and ability to follow orders.  The best and the brightest advance through the diagram, undergoing severe programming.  Programming which will enable them to disable a colony's environmental system.

            Quatre pales as he continues to read.  According to Heero's notes, each child is assigned a colony.  And the infiltration is perfectly synchronized.  At exactly the same moment, each operative is to introduce a debilitating virus to each colony's main computer.  The colonies will be completely defenseless.  And then... Quatre closes his eyes and shoves the paper at Wufei.  And then C555 will deploy the mobile suits.  _Gundam_ mobile suits.  Once the colonies have surrendered, and _only_ then, will the pilots transmit the codes to render the virus harmless and reinstate the environmental system controls.

            If the colonies do not surrender...

            _"Why?"_ Quatre demands, somewhat breathless.

            Yokaze shakes her head.  "We don't know.  Not at the moment, anyway."

            "Plan?" he asks tightly.

            Yokaze smiles.  "We're working on it."

            Wufei returns Heero's diagram.  "We don't have any substantial fire power."

            Trowa agrees, "That wouldn't really solve the problem anyway, Wufei.  We can blow up their base and their Gundams, but whoever authorized and organized this will slink away and try again at a later date."

            "We can't deal with this alone," Heero slowly admits.  He looks to Wufei.  "We need to expose their operation.  Let the Preventers take over.  Show the Earth Sphere what's going on here."

            Quatre frowns.  "The quickest way to draw the attention of the colony officials is to... well..."

            "Cause one hell of a mess on this colony?" Duo interjects.

            "But the civilians..." Quatre continues.

            Yokaze smiles for him.  "We'll just have to make sure our mess allows enough time for a proper evacuation but is still too big to be cleaned up locally."  She leans toward Duo, bracing her elbows on her thighs.  "Hey, babe."

            "Yes, peach?" he replies, catching onto her playful mood.

            Yokaze wiggles her brows.  "How would you like to blow some shit up?"

**.**

**~End of Chapter 22~**


	24. Chapter 23: No Compromises

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 23: No Compromises**

**.**

            **Would he like **to blow something up?  Is grass green?  Is chocolate an aphrodisiac?  Duo grins.  Yokaze should have known better than to ask him that question.  But then again, she'd known his answer before she'd even opened her mouth.

            His grin widens.  Dear God, but he does love that woman like a sister.

            Duo silently meanders through the colony streets.  The light from the streetlamps pierces the programmed darkness along the sidewalks and he instinctively stays just out of range.  As does his partner.

            Not bothering to glance at the man next to him, Duo remembers when his solo mission had turned into a duet.  That had also been Yokaze's fault.  She'd offered to watch his back... unless someone else happened to volunteer instead...  And she'd said this within earshot of Heero.  So, of course, the inevitable had happened.

            _"You never let me have any fun."_

            Duo remembers her sullen words with a silent chuckle.  She _had_ looked just a trifle disappointed...  Something tells Duo that he isn't the only one who likes to play with C4... among other unmentionable—pleasantly combustible—materials.  Sliding completely into the shadows of a maintenance alcove, Duo removes one of the burglary tools from the pack strapped to his calf.  Behind him, he can sense Heero's gaze scanning the street for witnesses.  After spraying a bit of machine lubricant of the exposed hinges, Duo begins the slow process of prying the access panel open.  With his back to the narrow alley, Duo is thankful that Yokaze had insisted on assigning him some backup.  He feels utterly exposed out here.  His shoulders tense.  That place at the base of his neck—where his instinct resides—itches.  He releases a harsh breath.

            "What is it?"

            Heero's quiet inquiry pours into the companionable silence between them.

            "This really brings it home," Duo murmurs.  "Just how much we've relaxed since... you know."

            _Since the war._  Heero says, "Yeah."  He forces himself to stay to the shadows, forces his right hand to remain curled around the loaded gun in his jacket pocket; it takes a conscious effort for him to do his job.  Once upon a time, stealth ops had been as effortless as breathing.  Has so much really changed?  Heero allows his gaze to ghost briefly over Duo's crouched form.  He notes the familiar glare of concentration as Duo peers through his long bangs and knows his question is redundant.

            Heero returns his gaze to their surroundings as the panel swings open in perfect silence.  Wordlessly, he unhooks the pack from around his torso and hands it to the figure now crouched in the yawning darkness of the air vent.  From the corner of his eye, he watches Duo belt the load of explosives across his chest.  The look on his face is... so... Heero hears his own voice, attempting to joke, trying to lighten his partner's load.

            "Are you sure you remember how to do this?"

            Duo shrugs and a crooked smile tugs at his mouth.  "Pretty much."

            A moment of awkward silence follows.  Duo tries to find the words to remind both Heero and himself that he'll be fine, that nothing will go wrong, that he can do this in his sleep.  But before he can force the whisper past his throat, he hears, "Be careful."

            Duo looks up and Heero sends him a quick look.  A look that makes his hands fist.  _Damn._  His playful reply is instinctive.  "Aw, you never let me have any fun."

            Gruffly, Heero grumbles, "You've got forty-three minutes before the fans are back on-line.  Get going."

            With a wry chuckle, he quips, "Your wish is my command."

            Heero tries not to wince as the panel slides shut, tries not to picture Duo's form melting into the total darkness beyond... he tries... and he fails.  His lips compress into a thin line as he forces himself to continue on his way.  He has forty-two minutes to reach the rendezvous point.

**.**

            **Duo listens** for the soft purr of the fans as his fingers smoothly twist the wires together.  Dear God, but he wishes this hadn't come back to him so easily.  He glares at the homemade bomb before him.  The penlight clamped between his teeth wobbles subtly with every breath.  He works as quickly as he can, considering his cramped position in the bowels of the colony.  In his head, he is counting down the minutes even as he recalculates the size of the charge he's setting.  This is the last charge he has to assemble, which is just as well; he doesn't have the time to put another one together.  In exactly eight minutes and seventeen seconds, the fans governing the flow of C555's ventilation system will start up, their daily maintenance and systems check complete.

            Carefully, Duo sets the time, calculating it down to the exact second.  Perfect synchronization is preferable.  Duo does not want some maintenance worker—just doing his job investigating a system failure—to find out what it's like to become charred human jelly when a delayed charge goes off in here.

            He suppresses a shiver of nausea.

            There.  He's finished.  Now for his escape.

            Seven minutes.  Exactly.

            He squirms through the slick tunnels.  The loss of the awkward packs of explosives makes the going a little faster, which is good.  Very good.  He has six minutes and twenty-six seconds to journey the estimated ten minutes worth of ductwork.  He doesn't bother to keep his passage particularly graceful.  He no longer has detonators and combustibles to protect.

            Five minutes.  Forty-five seconds.

            God, he hopes Heero's already made it to the rendezvous point and has the access panel jimmied open.  He recalls that _look_ that Heero had given him in conjunction with the softly spoken _"Be careful."_  What the hell had _that_ been about?  Duo decides to ask him if—_when_—he makes it out of here alive.

            Four minutes.  Fifty seconds.  

            He tries not to think of the surprise he'd leave behind for some, unlucky schmo if the fans kick on early.  Duo doesn't think about the force of the suction that would pull him into the churning blades, doesn't think about the lack of hand and footholds on the smooth surfaces of the ducts.

            Four minutes, even.

            He's not going to make it.  Duo's expression turns fierce with defiance at the wayward thought.  He forces his breathing to remain even, keeps his heart rate steady.  Nothing is gained by thinking _that way._  He focuses on the exit ahead.

            Three minutes.  Thirty-seven seconds.

            What if Heero's not there?  What if Duo had taken a wrong turn and the panel he's approaching is the wrong one?  He won't have time to double back.  And he won't be able to open it himself.  _Stop it!_  Duo grits his teeth and shoves the doubts aside.  God _damn_, but this is harder than he remembers.  But then, when he had been a scrawny, fifteen-year-old terrorist, he hadn't had anything specific to live for.  No wonder it had all been so easy back then.

            Two minutes.  Fifteen seconds.

            He trudges forward.  He owes it to them to make it.

            "Forgive me."

            His whisper echoes back to him in the darkness.  Later, he will decide for whom he'd said those words.

            If there _is_ a later.

            Ninety-three seconds...

**.**

            **One minute.**

            Heero glares at his watch and then transfers his attention to the panel.  Still, there's no sign of Duo.  He stares into the darkness for a single heartbeat... and makes his decision.  His left hand closes around the phone in his pocket and yanks it free.  Abandoning his grip on the gun, he flips the device open and keys in the phone number.

            He doesn't exchange pleasantries with the calm voice on the other end.  "Are you in?"

            "Of course."

            Heero knows what his request will cost them.  The entire operation will have to be scrapped.  But Duo will live.  "Delay the fans."

            "Roger, that."

            Just as the sound of Trowa's hands typing out the codes travels through the receiver, a small noise echoes out of the darkness.  Heero checks his watch.

            Thirty-five seconds.

            He leans into the shaft and calls, "Duo?"

            A movement in the shadows.  Heero reaches for it, grabbing a forearm, and pulls.  The two men tumble onto the sidewalk in a tangle.  Heero has the presence of mind to kick the panel closed and growl into the phone, "Delay my last."

            The phone snaps closed with a click.  Duo looks up as Heero's hands grip his shoulders.  Their eyes meet.

            The soft whirl of the fans hums against the access panel.

            They stare at each other, listening.  And then Duo's eyes flash with anger.  He rolls to his feet and shoves a hand out to help Heero up.  Heero automatically accepts it.  One moment, he's flat against the cement, the next he's staring into furious, dark eyes, nose-to-nose with Duo.

            "Don't."  The growl vibrates against Heero's mouth despite the fact that a good inch of air separates them.  "Ever."  The hand still grasping his tightens.  "Do that."  The heat of Duo's breath scalds Heero's lips.  _"Again."_

            Heero blinks, frozen in place by the ferocity of Duo's rage.  He endures the scathing glare for another breath and then Duo turns away.  Heero watches him make his way down the street, all evidence of anger immediately dissipating from his body.  Just like that, he's just another pedestrian out for a walk in the early hours of the morning.

            Dragging a fortifying breath into his lungs, Heero follows—but not too closely—behind.

**.**

            **_"Delay my last."_**

_            Nanashi pauses on the threshold of the shop's workroom.  He'd heard the door open a few minutes ago.  He'd seen the odd look on Johan's face when he'd quietly suggested that Nanashi finish pouring the molds; he'd take care of this customer.  And then the sound of a radio crackling had drawn the boy's attention.  And he had known.  This man is not merely a customer.  It is not until he hears those three words that he confirms it: __Alliance__ military._

_            "Johan," the man says congenially, sliding his radio back into its holster.  He grins and looks friendly, as if he hadn't been about to order a raid on the shopkeeper's store.  "How have you been?  It's been a while since I've managed to stop by, hasn't it?"_

_            Johan makes a sound of neutral agreement.  He does not offer the soldier a cup of tea or a seat.  He does not want the man to stay any longer than necessary.  And the quickest way to make him leave is to cooperate.  Hidden in the shadows of the workroom, Nanashi tenses._

_            "I haven't heard from you lately.  Just thought I'd stop in and remind you_..._"_

_            Johan says softly into the pregnant silence, "I haven't seen or heard of any rebel activity in the area."_

_            "That's good to hear, Johan."  The man smiles.  "Because I'd be very disappointed if you had seen or heard something and had... forgotten to tell me."_

_            "You're a difficult man to forget," Johan assures him, subdued._

_            The soldier is pleased by the flattery.  Pleased because it is true.  "Well, I have other_..._ friends to visit today.  It's been pleasant chatting with you again."_

_            Johan says, carefully, "Good luck."_

_            Nanashi misses the man's parting remark as he turns back to the solidifying metal.  He stares into the fire where another batch of silvery liquid slowly simmers.  He is quite calm as he considers this glimpse of the shadow the __Alliance__ casts over this town.  This safe, quiet town._

No place is safe.__

_            "Well, how are you doing, lad?"_

_            Nanashi looks up as Johan enters the room once more.  The lines on the man's kind face are deeper than usual.  He can sense his boss's strain and fatigue.  How often does he visit?  What does he threaten if Johan refuses to cooperate?  Will there ever be an end to it all?_

_            He replies, "Fine."_

_            But everything is not "fine."  These people—these good, caring people—are suffering under the intimidating force of the military.  How dare they?  This place had been safe...  These people had been safe until the Alliance had interfered._

_           With a sudden burst of hot emotion that does not reach his face, Nanashi decides to do something about that._

**.**

            **Trowa comes back** to the present as a body slides into the seat next to his.  Yokaze says nothing.  Her hand comes up and gently massages the tense muscles at the back of his neck.  He forces himself to relax.

            "They're clear," he tells her, eager for a distraction.

            She nods.  "Thank you," Yokaze replies.  He glances at her and she senses the question easily.  She elaborates, "For watching our backs."

            "You asked me to," he says simply.  He'd been flattered; since the incident with Jaspien on L2, he'd assumed she'd prefer Heero to guard her.  But she had asked him.  Of course, if something went wrong, he wouldn't be able to get to her, but he could ensure that help _did_ arrive.  As the eyes and ears of the mission, he had that power.

            "If Duo finds out about that call, he's going to be flaming pissed."

            "Hm," Trowa agrees.  "Does that mean we should order room service before he gets back?  Just in case?"

            The corner of her mouth quirks upward.  "Distraction via sustenance.  A very wise strategy."

            He watches as she collects the menu and cradles the phone between her shoulder and ear.  He listens to her voice as she logs her requests.  He takes several deep breaths and forces the last of the tension from his shoulders.  He knows that now is not a good time to dwell on the past... but that doesn't stop the old memories from resurfacing anyway.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 23~**


	25. Chapter 24: For Luck

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 24: For Luck**

**.**

            **George tenses** as the murmur of soft voices drifts out of the kitchen.  Beside him, Kathy places her hand on her husband's forearm and rubs soothingly.

            "Relax," she tells him with a smile.  "It's her first time..."

            He nods once.  "I kn-know."  _That_ is what has him so worried.

            "And we have plenty of antacids and Pepto-Bismol in the medicine cabinet."

            George doesn't remind her that neither of those stomach aids have been known to cure food poisoning.

            And then it's too late; the kitchen door swings open with a _swish!_  Taki holds aloft her masterpiece—a glazed ham baked with pineapple rings and maraschino cherries—with Jaspien (clutching a plate of homemade brownies) preceding her.

            "G-god d-damn," George mutters.  "Th-this is fr-freakier th-than Heero's c-cooking debut."

            He hadn't meant to let anyone hear that observation, but apparently he hadn't spoken softly enough.  Taki's head snaps up and her eyes lock onto him.

            "Heero?" she echoes, oddly enough ignoring George's comment regarding the situation's freak-factor.  "You taught _Heero_ how to cook?"

            George fidgets an affirmative response.

            "Did you happen to make any videos of that?"

            A small grin pulls at the edge of his mouth.  "L-looking for pr-proof?"

            Her brows arc.  "More like entertainment."  She places the dish between her hands on the table.  "Heero.  Cooking."  Taki shakes her head.  "That I'd like to see."

            Kathy grins.  "It _was_ pretty amusing."

            "Was he all squinty-eyed?" Taki presses.

            "And glaring," Kathy continues, laughter mingling with her voice.  "And- and when he- he realized he'd _chopped_ the onions instead of _cubing _them, he- he..."

            George, despite himself, grins widely and finishes her sentence, "Gr-growled."

            Taki snorts and feels tears of humor gather in her eyes.

            Kathy, still delirious with mirth, glares so hard at her plate her eyes nearly cross as she demonstrates, "Rrrrr..."

            Unsure of _exactly_ what is so hilarious, Jaspien watches the three adults in the room dissolve into fits of laughter.  After a bit, Kathy, noting Jaspien's silent confusion, winds down enough to tell him, "I'm sorry Jaspien.  It's just that when I think of Heero growling at an omelet..."

            Cocking his head to one side, Jaspien replies, "But I think Hero has a good growl."

            And _that_ comment sets everyone off again.  And, _again,_ Jaspien is left in the dust.  With a shrug, he stops trying to understand the three of them and just puts the plate of brownies on the table.

            "He looked good in that apron, too," Kathy manages to squeak out.

            "Hey!" George objects, trying to look jealous.

            Taki snickers at the pair of them... and the image of Heero, glaring, growling, in an apron.  Oh.  Dear.  God.  Mustering up a bit of will power, she pulls out a chair.  "Here, pop a squat, Jas."

            As Jaspien climbs into the chair, Taki stands beside hers and clears her throat.  "Okay, everyone.  Time to get serious."  And Taki swallows back a gleeful grin as she imagines Heero doing this: making a speech over his first post-George dinner.  "Tonight you will have the honor of sampling a variety of dishes prepared by L2's new culinary duo."  She gestures grandly to the boy next to her.  "Jaspien."  They share a grin.  "And me, of course."

            "Of c-course" is George's rather dry comment.

            Kathy sniffs with obvious appreciation.  "It smells great, you two."

            "It _is_ great," Jaspien defends.

            "Well, then, what are we waiting for?"

            Dinner proceeds and no one dies.  Or makes a mad dash for the bathroom.  Or gags.  Taki and Jaspien grin happily at the pure magic of the moment.  The evening gets even better when George and Kathy insist on cleaning up the kitchen for them.  Neither Taki nor Jaspien say a word; they know what kind of horrors await their test subjects—er, guests.

            The silence from the kitchen is telling.  Taki strains to catch the reactions of the volunteers.  She thinks she hears a rather masculine-sounding sob.  But then someone turns on the water faucet in the sink and all other sound is overwhelmed.  With a soft sigh, she says, "Well, that went well, don't you think, Jas?  We didn't even have to clean all that flour off the walls!"  Taki glances at Jaspien when a reply is not forthcoming.  "Jas?"

            She finds Jas poking at the remains of his dinner with his fork, his expression sad and somewhat sullen.  Feeling a little awkward at his sudden change in attitude, she ventures, "Aren't you happy?  We cooked something.  A _lot_ of somethings.  And, like, nobody _died._  That's a major accomplishment in my book."

            The boy nods once and pokes at the brownie crumbs with a little more force.  "I, um..."

            "Um?" Taki urges.

            Very softly, he says, "It would have been nice to, you know, have Hero and Duo eat with us, too."

            Taki slumps into her seat.  "Yeah," she agrees.  "I miss Wufei and Yokaze, too.  I'm... worried about them."

            Jaspien sends her an astonished look.  "But Wufei won the fight with Hero."

            Looking into Jaspien's face, Taki has to smile.  "Yeah, you're right.  Bullets bounce off those guys."

            "Taki?"

            "Yeah?"

            Grinning the boy says in a conspiratorial tone, "I'm glad you think so, too."  His eyes sparkle.  "I don't feel so crazy anymore."

            Taki laughs.  "Hey, we'll be crazy together."

            Jaspien giggles.  "Okay."

            Leaning back with mock affront, Taki demands, "_Okay?__  OKAY?_  Don't you _want_ to be crazy with me?"

            Jaspien eyes his cooking partner warily.  "Taki?"

            "Yes?"

            He pauses, briefly considering her before speaking.  "You're not crazy."

            She tries to look indignant.

            He continues, "You're just plain _weird._"

            In the kitchen, over the sound of pans clinking together and water running, George and Kathy pause to listen to the peals of laughter coming from the other room.  They listen, look at each other, and—silently—decide not to investigate.

**.**

            **Duo stares** at his computer screen, ignoring the only other presence in the room.  Wufei and Quatre had already left for another day of endless meetings.  Yokaze can be heard double checking her pockets and weapons in the main room of the suite.  And the sound of water gushing into the shower announces Trowa's activities.  And the subtle rustle of cloth against skin from a few feet away announces Heero's.

            Not for the first time since their earlier mission, Duo opens his mouth to demand just what in the _bloody everlasting hell_ had happened a few hours ago.  That "be careful" ... that _look_... that phone call to Trowa... risking the _mission_ by ordering an override of the fans...  But if Duo is completely honest, he must admit that what bothers him the most is Heero risking his own life by reaching in after him, not even bothering to secure himself with a tether beforehand.  Just acting on impulse...

            And what about that impulse?  The impulse that had made Heero so reckless?  And reckless not only with his own life, but with the lives of the others?  He'd nearly blown their cover and thrown his own life away just by jumping into that vent after Duo.  What the hell had _that_ been about?

            The words burn his tongue, but Duo says nothing.  Really, what would be gained by discussing it now?  Heero and Yokaze are minutes away from heading out on their assignments... potentially dangerous assignments... made even more dangerous by the fact that Heero hasn't done this sort of thing since 197...  And as he, himself, had demonstrated last night by nearly biting the big one... this could all end badly.  Very badly.

            But a confrontation would only distract Heero.  Duo's hands fist.  He knows he can't say anything right now.  Later, however, is another story.  If there _is_ a later...

            "What is it?"

            Duo forces himself to relax enough to turn and face his old friend.  He ignores the fact that Heero hasn't finished dressing and is currently shirtless, turning said shirt right-side-out.  He goes about the task blindly, his gaze fixed on Duo.  Duo makes himself shrug and struggle for words to hide behind.  "I've been wishing I could tell Bisho what's gonna go down."  He pauses and swivels back around as Heero raises his arms to slide the shirt on.  "And I wish I knew how Jas was doing..."

            He starts violently when a warm hand settles on his shoulder.

            Heero calmly reminds him, "You'll be monitoring the evacuation procedure at the spaceport.  Everything will be fine."

            Duo is struck speechless at the gesture.  In spite of himself, he feels... comforted.  Of course, Heero's reply is all the more effective due to its novelty.  A long moment passes and still Heero's hand remains right where it is.  And then his thumb brushes against the skin at the nape of Duo's neck.

            "I miss him, too."

            Caught up in the shock of the light massage, Duo almost misses Heero's softly spoken words.  He tries not to enjoy the touch too much.  Tries to add this moment to the list of things to be... discussed at a later date.  But _damn,_ how is Duo supposed to stay angry with him when he uses _that_ tone of voice?

            Suddenly exhausted, Duo sighs.

            Almost immediately, Heero's other hand slides into place on the other side of his neck.  Duo's eyes widen as Heero uses his thumbs and heels of his hands to work at the tension in Duo's neck and shoulders.

            In a voice Duo has never heard from him before, Heero repeats huskily, "Everything will be fine."

            "Hm," he hums and almost yells, _What__ the hell is going on with you?_  Almost.  A mocking, defiant portion of Duo's mind jeers, _You'll__ never ask; you're scared shitless of the answer!_

            Instead of leaning into the competent hands, Duo straightens, shrugging them off.  "Get going," Duo tells him, rather proud of his flat tone.  "Yokaze's waiting in the other room."

            He pecks at the keyboard, testing the connections he'd hacked earlier and listening for Heero's retreating footsteps.  There is, however, no motion behind him.  Heero has not budged an inch.  Resting his elbow on the desk, Duo lowers his forehead to his upturned palm, exasperated.  If Heero doesn't leave soon, Duo's going to forget about his resolve to _not_ light into him before the mission.

            "Heero..."  God, he hadn't meant for that to come out sounding so tired, so... aching.  "You have a mission to get on with, remember?"

            He senses the subtle change in Heero's posture.  Stiffening at the rebuke.  _Just leave.  Go on.  Get on with it.  Go, dammit!_

            Duo drops his hand and sits up straight once more.  "Well, _some_ of us have actual work to do, so—"

            The words "piss off" are right there, on the tip of this tongue, waiting to be said.  But Duo doesn't have the opportunity to do so.  A strong hand closes over his bicep and twirls the office chair around.  Duo has the briefest moment to register the look on Heero's face as he looms over him.  And that look in itself would have shut him up.  But, in the end, it's the feel of Heero's mouth pressing against his that prevents further conversation.

            The kiss is sudden and sure and brief, but branding.  And when Heero pulls away, allowing no more than an inch of space between their mouths, Duo can still feel the heat from those lips.  He blinks into a stare that can only be described as _intense_ and possibly _focused_..._ VERY focused._

            "For luck," Heero growls.

            The words jar Duo from his stupor.  His brow furrows as his fury rises.  _How dare—?_

            Heero's lips silence the thought.  The touch this time is light and tender and completely devastating.  A caress.  

            Heero's expression softens.  He whispers against Duo's mouth.  "For us."

            _Us?_  Duo gives himself a sharp mental shake.  _Whatthehell__!?_  He opens his mouth to say just that, but again he is cut off.  This time by the slam of the door.

            _"Shit!"_

            Hands fisted against his thighs, Duo turns back to his computer.  And the only thing that stops him from flinging it against the nearest wall is that hundreds of lives are depending on it.  And him.

            He forces himself to take a deep breath.  He closes his eyes for the count of five.

            "You bastard."

            But even as he curses him, he touches the tip of his tongue to his lips, harvesting the ghost of the flavor Heero had left in his wake.

**.**

            **At ten-oh-eight a.m.** Wufei's words are interrupted by a slight vibration beneath his feet followed promptly by a system failure alert.

            _"All citizens are asked to proceed to the spaceport for immediate evacuation.  This is not a drill.  All citizens—"_

            The looks on the faces of those around him are priceless.  They stare at each other in blatant shock for a heartbeat before the content of the alert message launches them toward the door.  Wufei twists away from the guiding hands.

            "But, sir—!"

            Holding up a hand, Wufei states very calmly and firmly, "I must locate Mr. Winner."  He removes a phone from his jacket pocket and flips it open.  "We will be right behind you."

            The man hesitates for a moment, but the resolve on Wufei's face reassures him and he follows after his associates.  Like a good little peon.  Wufei smirks at the thought.

            He turns on his heel and continues down the hall to the men's restrooms.  He pauses just long enough to tap out a short, specific series of knocks on the door.  As he does so, he is already shrugging out of his constricting jacket.

            Wufei strides into the room and catches the duffle bag Heero tosses him.  Wordlessly, he strips out of his suit and pulls on the clothes more conducive to what the three of them are about to do.  As Wufei straps on his gun holster, he notes Quatre is just finishing checking over his own arms.  Their timing is as perfect as they had anticipated.

            Heero stuffs the duffle bag and Wufei's discarded clothes into the trash receptacle.  Quatre moves toward the door and listens intently for motion on the other side.  Wufei makes a few final adjustments to his clothing before pulling his hair back into a tight ponytail.

            With a short nod, Wufei indicates he is ready to proceed.

            Gun in hand, Quatre takes point and leads them out into the empty halls... and deeper into the building.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 24~**


	26. Chapter 25: Zero One

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 25: Zero-one**

**.**

            **_"What?"_**_  A question from most, it is almost a grunt from Heero Yuy._

_            Yokaze continues grinning widely.  Waiting until she has her brother's full and undivided attention, she says, "You're so cute when you're loading."_

_            The weapon in his hands snaps up, level with her forehead.  "Bang," he deadpans._

_            She continues grinning.  Even Heero looks amused at the resurgence of the joke that had started back on the morning Bisho and Quatre had arrived on L2.  Trowa watches them in silence and is mildly surprised to realize that only ten days have passed since that morning._

_            Then, as Yokaze turns to check her own firearms, Heero's gaze collides with Trowa's.  Soldier to soldier.  Brother to lover._

            Trowa monitors the personal comm. devices on his laptop before switching back over to the building's security cameras.  He easily remembers the look that had passed between himself and Heero.  It had been infinitely more than a simple _Take care of her._  It had been: _You will tell me if she needs me and you will let me die for her if necessary._

            All that in a single look.

            Back during the war, Trowa is not sure he would have understood the intricate meaning therein.  But he'd read it easily just a short hour ago.  And he'd understood because he feels exactly the same way.

            Trowa glances at the laptop's microphone status bar and knows, without a doubt, that if Yokaze were to be threatened, he would dial Heero's frequency immediately.  She would probably never forgive him for it, but he knows he wouldn't be able to _not_ do everything in his power to help her.  At least she hadn't asked him not to.  So, perhaps she already knows.

            Who is he trying to kid?  Of course she knows.  But that doesn't mean she has to like it.

            And it's up to Trowa to make sure the situation doesn't degrade to that point.

            He checks his watch.

            10:07:48

            He waits.

            Exactly twelve seconds later, the hotel shudders with the explosion.

            "Colony air filters are off-line," Duo announces, for the record and their comrades on the other end of the radio.  "Colony oxygen tanks are destroyed.  Approximately four hours and twenty-three minutes to loss of colony life support."

            "Acknowledged."  Trowa turns toward his task of tracking their progress through the colony's administration building.  Every few minutes, he checks to be sure his laptop is still recording all radio transmissions.  Everything is going smoothly, thus far.

            Quatre's team has yet to encounter any resistance and Yokaze is approaching the first of her targets.  Trowa keeps most of his attention on her.  After all, he _is_ her backup.  Not for the first time, he wishes he were in there with her but quickly squashes the thought.  He turns his attention back to others and discovers they've just reached the lab level.

**.**

            **His name is G.**  That is all she knows about the "Mission One Operation Administrator."  She is determined, before this counter-mission is over, to know considerably more.

            Yokaze crouches low against the doorway.  The first of the variables she is interested in investigating.  Several locations on the blueprints for this building had been unidentifiable.  Luckily, the labs and living quarters had not been among them.  But this G person...  Yokaze is hoping her search will yield the administrator's location.  And, if she is very lucky, she will have the chance to tag him with a transmitter.

            She reaches up and gently pries the keypad beside the door open.  Her fingers match up the wires and ten seconds later, the door hisses aside.  The lights within flicker on at the intrusion and, on the threshold, Yokaze falters.  The gun in her hands lowers as her arms relax in shock.

            Before her, the sparring room yawns.  Her gaze slides over the two-way mirrors, glittering like black eyes in the otherwise perfectly white room.

            _"Zero-one, meet my newest protégé, Zero-four."___

           "Jesus."  Her voice echoes in the room.  Echoes over her comm. link.  She has forgotten that anyone is even listening.  She stands there, half in and half out of the nightmare.

            _"Come, Zero-one.  It begins."_

_            And so it had.  The two figures, garbed in perfect white, battle in the cavernous room, feeling the eyes of the men behind those mirrors watching them.  The struggle progresses.  Neither warrior has the upper-hand.  Until...  The child stumbles, her blade arcing up_..._ up_...__

_            The young woman is quick._

_            But not quick enough._

_            Blood splatters against the white shirt, running hotly down along the fighter's jaw._

_            Despite their orders, they pause.  They honor the moment of first blood.  And they know that the next hit may well end the game._

_            Their maker wants death.  So that is what they will give him._

_            Yokaze leaps aside as her opponent's steel blade arcs for her once more.  The child she battles does not become frustrated or impatient, however.  The attack continues.  Two minutes.  Five.  Ten.  They are tireless.  And then, with a clatter, Yokaze's foil is torn from her grasp.  She does not think; she acts.  As the air next to her ear whistles from the near miss, she goes down onto the mat and kicks her attacker's feet from under her.  Yokaze rolls to her feet, collecting her sword and turning to face the oncoming attack._

_            The child-soldier approaches swiftly, foil extended.  They battle.  Then, something flickers in the child's eyes.  Something Yokaze had not hoped she would see.  Something... human.  In the next instant, the young girl engages Yokaze's blade once more.  Redirects it.  And steps into it.  Yokaze jerks back as quickly and gently as she can, but the damage has been done.  The wound is deep and fatal.  Dropping her sword, Yokaze approaches the little girl and gathers her into her arms._

_            Glassy cobalt eyes stare up at Yokaze.  The child draws a single rattling mouthful of air before whispering out her final breath.  Though barely a sound emerges, Yokaze reads the girl's lips easily, too easily.  "Thank you_..._"  And then the light flees from her eyes and all is still._

            "Come in, Six.  Do you read?"

            Shaking, Yokaze forces herself to step back into the corridor.  The door slides shut on the silent room.  She can hear her own harsh breaths echoing against the metal surface in front of her.  She nods, knowing that Trowa is probably watching her on the security cam.  She forces back the nausea with several deliberate gulps.

            "I read you," she whispers and wants to wince at the shaky quality of her voice.  "Target A is a negative.  Proceeding to target B."

            There is a long pause.  She can hear his concern over the air waves.  "Acknowledged."

            She quickly snaps the keypad cover back in place and checks her watch.  _Damn._  She'd been daydreaming for... shit, four solid minutes.  _Bloody hell._  It is a miracle Heero hadn't already charged to her "rescue."

            Yokaze turns to proceed down the corridor and shivers.  She hadn't seen the similarity before...  She hadn't been _looking_ for it before.  But now, with the cover ripped off of the pit containing the things she tries so hard to forget, she sees the likeness of the L1 beast, hears the echo of _him_.

            _No,_ she tells herself.  _Not now.  Not.  Now._

            But her mind has other ideas.

**.**

            **"Quatre!"******

            The man addressed lowers his gun and smiles reassuringly for his sister.  "Althea," he breathes.  "Are there any guards in here with you?"  Even as he asks, his eyes scan the terrified faces of the scientists and doctors confined to the bare room.

            She shakes her head.  "No.  Just outside the door.  Quatre, what—?"

            With a shake of his head, he interrupts her before she can ask after their fate.  He knows she doesn't really want to know.  Her eyes drop from his face and she catches sight of his gun.  Her eyes widen.  She doesn't finish her question.

            "The children," he says, "are on level B4, sections fifteen through thirty-eight, right?"

            One of the captives nods.  "Yes.  They're all there."

            "How many?"

            There is a pause.  "As of yesterday morning, one hundred and seventy-three."

            Quatre surveys the room.  "We don't have a lot of time and we'll need your help."

            "We?" Althea parrots.

            Wufei and Heero appear in the open doorway by way of answer.

            "We need to get the children evacuated and get everyone to the spaceport."  Quatre moves toward the doorway, thankful for Trowa's support.  He'd managed to confirm, by counting the people streaming out of the building and comparing that number with the personnel files, that twenty-two employees and twelve guards are still within the complex.  Quatre is relieved to have found the employees, but there are still ten guards unaccounted for.  "Let's go."

            Althea nods.  "Lead on, little brother."  She follows closely behind and tries not to look too closely at the bodies of the fallen guards framing the exit.

**.**

            **_The General approaches_**_ Yokaze, his unsuccessful creation forgotten.  "Zero-one," he says.  "My first.  My best.  My masterpiece.  You have done me a great honor today."_

_            Yokaze remains silent, her hate chilling her muscles so that she does not tremble with rage._

_            He winds an arm about her shoulders.  "Come," he commands._

_            Mute, she allows him to escort her out of the training room.  Down the long, silent halls.  The General guides her into an elevator and presses the ground floor button.  Yokaze wonders what he is doing.  She also wonders how much longer she will have to wait for the explosion._

_            As the doors slide open and the main foyer opens up to her, an impossible thought occurs to her.  He wouldn't_..._ release her_..._ would he?  She knows a micro-second of panic.  This is not going according to plan.  It's time to change that._

_            "For so many years I have waited for you to return to me.  I knew you would.  You and I are bound together, you see.  We share the same soul, Zero-one.  The same potential.  The same possibility."_

_            Yokaze says nothing as he walks her across the cavernous room to the bright, sunlit windows that frame the main entrance._

_            "Only you have ever been able to show me the errors of my ways.  Only you are capable of testing my work for weaknesses.  You are exceptional beyond anyone's imagination.  That is why this is so very hard for me to do."_

_            He halts in front of the door before pulling it open and stepping back.  He tells her, "I gave you my word.  One last training simulation.  And you have completed it admirably.  You are free to go, Zero-one."_

_            Yokaze stares at his face, at those cold, ice-blue eyes.  He does not seem disturbed by her flat, immovable stare.  At last, she opens her mouth and speaks: "No."_

_            He blinks.  This is possibly the first time he has heard her voice since she'd been a child._

_            "My mission is not complete."_

_            He tilts his head to one side.  "What do you mean, Zero-one?"_

_            "You," she says flatly.  "I shall fight you."_

_            The General smiles.  "Oh, I have no doubt that you could kill me."_

_            For a long moment, Yokaze simply continues to stare at him.  "But you do not know how I would do it, do you?" she challenges._

_            The man's grin widens.  "You are correct, Zero-one.  I do not know how.  So, tell me.  How would you kill me?"_

_            Yokaze says nothing.  She knows that the game she is playing is dangerous, very dangerous.  She knows that she will probably die.  But she also knows that if she leaves now, she will never be truly free of him.  Simply destroying the building and its secrets is not enough.  She _needs_ to watch the General die.  She needs to kill him herself.  But that means touching him.  The very thought makes her stomach roll._

_            "Well, Zero-one?" he presses._

_            She simply stares at him._

_            "Tell me."  It is a command._

_            She disobeys.  Retaining her silence, baiting him._

_            A smile flickers across his lips a moment before his hand connects with Yokaze's face.  The gash in her cheek gushes anew as she slowly picks herself up off of the floor.  A fist or a knee slams into her stomach, forcing her breath from her.  She looks up at the man and sees the bloodlust in his eyes.  In that instant, she knows that he has always wanted nothing more than to fight her.  To test his skills, his mind, against her._

_            Her muscles coil as she prepares to comply.  As she stands, her training takes over.  Her hatred drives her.  She eyes him with a predatory glare.  She can feel her mind shutting down until only the animal, the soldier, the killer remains._

_            But then her sensitive ears hear something else over the rush of her own blood.  She pauses._

_            And hears the sound again._

_            A rumbling._

_            Coming from the ventilation shafts._

_            The bombs._

            The memory dissolves as she gazes at target E from across the hall.  She squeezes her palms together to still their shaking.  Yokaze stares at the keypad beside the door and takes several deep breaths.  She checks her watch.  By now the other team should have reached the holding cells, doctors and scientists in tow.  She is still on schedule.

            As gracefully as her quaking limbs will allow, she crosses the remaining distance and overrides the lock.  The door whispers open.  Like targets B and C, there are no automated lights.

            She waits.

            She listens.

            And then she steps into the darkness.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 25~**


	27. Chapter 26: The Target

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 26: The Target**

**.**

            **Silence.******

            Trowa stares at the radio recording window for Six, watching the barely wavering line progress across the screen.  He unnecessarily checks the clock.  He does not need it to tell him how much time has passed since he'd either seen or heard Yokaze.  The clock only confirms his own estimation.  He forces himself to divide his attention between camera viewpoints.  On the right, Quatre leads the team and their objectives through the corridors to the delivery bay where the trucks that will take them to the spaceport are waiting.  On the left: the closed portal to target E.  Yokaze had disappeared into that room eighteen minutes ago.  This target is taking twelve minutes longer than target D.  Fifteen minutes longer than targets B and C.

            Trowa glances at the audio flat-line.  Not even a breath: harsh, irregular, or otherwise.  Nothing.  Just background noise.  He carefully nudges the volume control on the laptop.  A chill shivers through his body at the perfect lack of sound.

            Silence has never unsettled him... until now.

            Instincts screaming for him to _do_ something, Trowa forces himself to wait, to watch for any sign of motion on the target E cam, to track Heero's progress in settling everyone into the covered trucks.  If she doesn't reappear before the trucks are ready to go, he's going to have to send Heero back in after her.  Not even the possibility of Yokaze's wrath is enough to sway him.  She can hate him later.  And Trowa realizes that he'll be more than happy if, in fact, she is safe and sound and able _to_ hate him later.

**.**

            **Heero offers** a stiff, reassuring smile to the wide-eyed girl before him.  Reluctantly, she takes his hand and allows him to help her into the truck.

            "Where are we going?"  

            She tries to sound tough.  He can hear the bravado in her voice, but there is also the distinct edge of fear.  Heero tells her quietly, "Someplace far away."

            Her large, pale eyes bore into him for a moment, judging her apparent savior.  Heero returns her stare, letting her weigh him in silence.  After a short time, she replies, "I believe you."  Only then does she allow one of the doctors to seat her with the other children.  

            Heero turns back to help the next child and realizes that the little girl _had been_ the last.  He signals to Wufei and Quatre at the next vehicle that he's finished.  As he turns to lift the tail gate into place, a soft voice in his ear startles him.

            "One, do you read?  Come in, One."

            And with those simple words, Heero's heart nearly stops.  He forces a flat, dispassionate tone.  "One, here.  Come back, Three."

            "One, potential situation with Six.  Advise proceed to level B2, section eighteen."

            Heero reaches automatically for his sidearm as he _feels_ the blood drain from his face.  He catches Wufei's eye and signals for the other man to take Heero's truck.  Wufei's eyes widen briefly as he reads Heero's intent to head back into the building, but he simply nods and heads for the cab.  Already, Quatre has slid behind the wheel of the other truck and is nursing the engine to life.

            Satisfied that he is no longer needed by his teammates, Heero turns toward the delivery bay doors.  "Three, advise on situation."

            "No response since ten-hundred fifty-one."

            Heero glances at his watch.  Twenty-three minutes of silence.  _Shit._  "Do you have a visual?"

            "Negative."

           He takes a breath he intends to use demanding why Trowa had waited so damn long to pull him off of his assignment.  But Trowa anticipates him.  In a soft, sad voice, the other man says over the receiver, "Objectives first.  Her wish, not mine.  As it is, if you're injured, she'll never forgive me for sending you in and she'll never forgive herself for being the cause."

            "I'd better make sure I don't die, then," Heero snarls, suddenly angry at the whole damn universe.

            "Your survival would be optimal," Trowa agrees dispassionately.

            Deciding to save his breath for running, Heero renegotiates the sterile halls, climbing down the stairs and exiting onto the level Trowa specifies.

            "No obstacles in sight.  Proceed due south."

            Heero hurries along the corridor, not bothering with more than a cursory glance at the portals he passes.

            "At the intersection, proceed west."

            He forces himself to take the full second needed to confirm the halls clear of enemies then rushes onward.

            "And now south again."

            He skids around the corner, reaching out to trail his fingers along the wall for support.

            "Third door on the left."

            Heero sees it.  The keypad cover hangs limply under a jumble of multi-colored wires.  Sliding to a halt, he forces his breathing to quiet, his heart rate to slow.  He listens as he selects the two wires that will override the door lock and touches the copper ends together.

            The door shivers open and darkness spills out into the hall.  Quickly, he slips into the room, keeping his back to the wall and gun raised.  His other hand whispers along the wall, connecting with the environmental controls.  With the touch of his fingers, the overhead lights begin to glow softly.  Slowly, the space before him is revealed.

            He is in an office.  An apparently empty office.  He glides across the plush carpet toward the desk and the shadows beyond.  His training tells him to investigate the dark corners of the room, but something on the desk draws his gaze.  The laptop.  He stares at the glowing screen and its depiction of his sister.  He remembers the photo.  Rolling Stone Magazine had done a story on NW about three years ago.  They had used this image for her artist profile.  But as indescribably odd as this is, it does not compare to the papers placed carefully across the gleaming surface of the desk.

            Heero watches his hand extend over the pages as he slowly registers what they are: identity reports.  On himself.  Trowa.  Duo.  Quatre.  Wufei.  Taki.  George.  Kathy.  Bisho.

            "Shit."

            Heero is not even aware that he has whispered the expletive until the distinct sound of a safety disengaging behind him replies.

            He tenses and waits for the instructions that must come next: _hands in the air, drop your weapon, turn around slowly._  But there is nothing.  Only the infinitesimal sounds of his own pulse and breath.  Cautiously, he looks over his shoulder.

            Shadows.

            All he can make out through the darkness is the gleaming line of the gun.  His eyes narrow as he calculates the angle.  Whoever is there isn't standing.  In fact, it seems to Heero that the person is using the floor as a support for both the gun and the hand wrapped around it.

            A guard Yokaze hadn't finished off?

            He waits a moment longer, locating the second environment control panel.  His gaze flicks once more to the corner of the room and notes the gun waver.  He dives for the panel and slams his hand against it.  The lights flare overhead and Heero gets his first good look at the only other person in the room.

            And the sight that greets him yanks a small, choked sound from within his chest and out through his slack lips.

            _"Yokaze!"_

            The figure on the floor shivers at the sound of Heero's harsh whisper.  Her skin, gray and bloodless, is beaded with chilling sweat.  The light in her eyes is feverish and her pupils are fully dilated.  He can see the yellow crust of bile at the corner lips, curving a path down her chin and jaw.  He doesn't realize he's moved until the hand holding the gun rises up.  Compared to the rest of her shivering, convulsing form, that arm is surprisingly steady.

            "Stop," she croaks.

            Speechless, Heero halts.

            "Contagious."  She says the word as if it explains everything.

            Heero finds his voice as he realizes she's capable of having a dialog with him.  "What...?"  He shakes his head.  He'll ask what happened later.  Right now...  "We have to get you out of here."

            She glares at him for a long moment.  Slowly, she nods.  "My way."

            Heero begins to protest, but the look on her face is so fierce that the words die unspoken.

            "Stay away.  Swear.  Or... I'll shoot... myself.  Save everyone... the trouble."

            Real fear.  He thought he'd felt it when Duo had nearly lost his race with the fans.  But even then he'd had options, held _some_ power in his hands.  He examines his sister, pale and shivering, coated in sweat and vomit, promising to deliver on her threat... and realizes _this_ is fear.

            He reads the deadly intent in her eyes and acquiesces.  Reluctantly, he backs up a step.  "I swear," he promises, and they are the most difficult words he's ever had to say.

            "Rule one," she rasps.  "I follow... you."

            Heero inhales sharply, knowing that she intends to leave under her own power alone.

            "Rule two," she continues doggedly.  "Time... runs out... you leave... me."

            "No!"

            Her eyes narrow and she turns the gun toward herself, tucking it under her chin.  "Then... I... give... up... _now._"

            Heero has to forcibly restrain himself from reaching for her.  "Okay," he soothes.  "Okay.  Rule two.  I've got it.  We'll do it your way."

            Too slowly for Heero, the gun lowers.

            "Wait... in the hall."

            He winces at the strained, rusty quality of her voice, but he says not a word as he backs slowly out of the room.  Helpless, he watches as she pulls her arms and legs under her.  She heaves against the carpet, her body trying its damnedest to turn itself inside out.  Heero forces himself to communicate with his silent partner to distract himself.

            "Come in, Three."

            "I'm here."

            "She's..."  Heero forgets his next words—forgets his audience—as she stumbles to her feet, leaning heavily against the wall.

            "Tell me."

            Heero forces himself to ask, "Did you catch everything?"

            "Yes.  I heard it all.  Tell me the rest."

            "I..." _I don't know what to do.  I don't know what's wrong with her.  She's_...  "Expect visual soon."  Heero steps back into the corridor and watches as she uses the wall for support, lurching painfully forward.

            Heero can nearly hear Trowa's frustration.  He attempts to think of something to offer him.  "Six is moving under her own power."  It's the only good news he can hand him.  He does not tell Trowa if he thinks she can make it to the delivery bay.  He doesn't want to think about the chances of that miracle happening, himself.

            It takes nearly ten minutes for her to reach the open doorway.  She glares at him and Heero forces himself to move another ten feet away from her.  As she emerges, Heero hears the quiet but sharp intake of breath through the receiver.  His heart aches along with Trowa's at the sight of her quivering, bowed body.__

            And then, when Trowa's voice should have spoken to him, Heero encounters silence.  But Yokaze's expression hardens.  Heero realizes that Trowa has dialed her frequency and is encouraging her.  Briefly, he wishes for the same gesture.  A distraction would be... a comfort right now.

**.**

            **"So, I was** thinking about going back to get those leopard-print ones," Trowa murmurs over the radio.

            Behind him, Duo is hurriedly packing all of the unnecessary equipment.  With the evacuation completed, Duo devotes his full attention to getting everything stowed and ready to go.  He places his laptop case on the floor beside Heero's and closes his eyes, imagining what the man must be enduring... what he has been enduring for the last hour: watching his sister fade with every step and unable to aid her.  Aching for Yokaze, aching for Heero, he blinks back the hot rush of emotion and listens to Trowa's soothing voice.  Who'd known he had capabilities of conversation that surpass even Duo?

            "But Duo told me the faux-snakeskin is a better match with my complexion.  I suppose I could get one of each.  You'll have to tell me which pair you like better..."

            Underwear.  Trowa Barton is rattling on about underwear in an effort to keep his lover both focused on the present and determined to make it out of there.

            "I think I can safely say that lipstick red is out.  I didn't even have to model them to know how hideous they would look.  If I'd worn those you would have ruptured something; you would have laughed so hard..."

            Duo's heart feels like it's twisting inside his chest as he remembers the sound of her laughter.  He leans closer to Trowa's computer and watches the image of her dragging herself closer to the elevators.  _Jesus, she doesn't look like she's gonna last much longer._  And then, as if she'd heard Duo's thought, she stumbles, crashing abruptly to her knees.  Beside him, Trowa's breath hitches.  Wordlessly, Duo places a hand on his shoulder, saying, _I'm here, buddy.  I'm sticking this one out with you._

            "Come on, Yo," Trowa manages to purr through the tightness of his throat.  "Get up.  You know you can.  One foot at a time."

            On the screen, her head hangs.  Chin resting against her chest, she concentrates on her breathing, concentrates on relaxing the instinct that would have her heaving again.

            "Get up, Yo," Trowa whispers.  There is no response.  "Please?"

            Slowly, she nods.  Once.  "In... minute," she breathes.

            "You're almost at the elevators.  You can make it.  Just a little further.  If you look up you can see them.  Just there."

            Duo's gaze is drawn to Heero.  Even though the image is small, he can see the glint of something against his cheekbones.  He's been crying.  On Trowa's shoulder, Duo's fingers tighten.

            Another half an hour passes before she manages to tumble into the lift.  Duo watches Heero's lips move, reading, _Stay__ awake.  I'll go up and call your elevator when I get there.  Just a little further._

            She nods and the doors slide closed.  Heero hurries into the neighboring elevator and punches the button, presumably, for ground level and the delivery bay.

            Duo glances at the clock and his teeth clench.  By now Wufei, Quatre, and the rest of the colony's residents are well on their way.  It appears that it's only the four of them left and the colony is rapidly running out of air.  He itches to head for the now-empty spaceport and prep Quatre's private shuttle, but he's not leaving Trowa.  No way.

            Trowa takes a deep breath, preparing to continue with his monologue.  Sensing the other man's exhaustion and tension, Duo rubs small circles against his shoulder.  "Alright, you're in the elevator.  I'm switching to the ground level camera now.  Just a moment... there.  I see Heero.  He's calling your elevator up.  It's just a little further.  Just across the hall to the delivery bay doors..."

            Trowa's voice trails off as the doors part and Yokaze rolls onto her stomach.  She stares out across the short distance to the doors Heero has propped open and the expression on her face is one of utter defeat.

            Ignoring her wordless plea to be left behind, Heero speaks again, _I'll get a truck.  Meet me outside these doors._

            She makes no move to follow.

            Trowa reacts.  "Get up.  Now."

            Duo starts at the harsh words, the hard voice.  He'd only ever heard Trowa sound this way once.  Years ago.  The night Yokaze had disappeared from L2 to free Heero from the organization for good.

            On the screen, her lips part and she rasps, "Sorry..."

            "I won't let you be sorry," Trowa snaps.  "Get up.  Get into the bay.  Now.  You _will_ do this."

            Her hand twitches, almost releasing the gun.  Her gaze lifts to the doors again.

            More softly, but no less firmly, Trowa presses, "For me.  Do this for me, Yokaze.  You can do this for me."

            Gingerly, she sits back, pulling her arms under her.  Duo bites his lip as the great Yokaze—soldier, artist, teacher, friend—_crawls_ the remaining distance.  The only ghost of her former strength is the gun she drags with her.  Her last resort.

            Duo offers what support he can as Trowa talks her into standing.  By the time she's managed it, Heero has backed a truck up to her and lowered the tailgate.  She pitches forward and rolls inside.  Heero doesn't bother closing the gate.  He simply drives.

            Duo and Trowa stare after them for a long moment.  And then a glance at the time zaps Duo from his lethargy.

            "Come on, Tro.  We've gotta get outta here."

           Silently, Trowa saves all of the audio and visual files on his computer before shutting down and stuffing it into its case.  But his hand pauses over the radio.  Duo, in the process of gathering up their bags, watches as Trowa brings the device to his lips, nearly kissing it.  His whisper is too low for Duo to hear and he turns away to give him the illusion of privacy.  He will _not_ read his friend's possibly last words to his lover.  He doesn't need to.  He imagines they're not all that different from what he would like to say to Heero right now.  

**.**

**~End of Chapter 26~**


	28. Chapter 27: Victims

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 27: Victims**

**.**

            **He studies** his hand as it presses against the glass.  Listens to the sound of his breath echoing back to him.  Feels the cool, smooth surface against his forehead.  He closes his eyes, unable to look beyond the clear boundary.

            This is even harder than watching her struggle toward the elevators.  And he hadn't been _able_ to look at her when she'd had to traverse the hall to the delivery bay.  Just like he hadn't been able to watch as she'd pulled herself into the emergency evacuation pod.  Unassisted.  His entire body tenses as he recalls her last words to him: _Medical quarantine._

            He hadn't been capable of assuring her he'd do it, but she'd gone ahead and locked the hatch behind her, possibly too tired to care any longer.  And then he'd forced himself to issue the alert to L4, the nearest colony with the facilities to deal with whatever it is his sister had contracted.  His hands had been shaking as he'd gone through the launch sequence... and then that had been it.  His sister... out there... in space... floating.

            It had been Duo's voice in his ear—he'd forgotten about the transmitter—reminding him to get moving.

            _"You've done all you can, Heero.  Now you need to get out of there.  Give her something to wake up to when she gets to L4."_

            But she hadn't woken up yet.  Duo had assured him that the plague could do that.

            The L2 plague.

            The doctors had confirmed it over six hours ago.  She'd been injected with a pure sample.  A sample that had probably come from a vaccination research facility.  The quantity of poison in her blood isn't supposed to exist anymore, anywhere.  But it obviously does.

            Heero forces his eyes open and takes a long look at the figure on the bed, tubes and electrodes colliding with flesh.  The vision could only hurt more if she had been surrounded by harsh, hospital white.  But Trowa had taken care of that.  Somehow.

            A hand on his shoulder, an arm across his back, a warm body brushing against his side... Heero breathes deeply, scenting the new arrival.  It's Duo, of course.  Heero is well aware that the man beside him is furious with him.  Furious for caring, for being reckless, for risking so much to save him, for kissing him.  And the selfless comfort Duo now offers—despite so much unresolved baggage between them—humbles Heero completely.

            He tries not to lean into that half-embrace, but he easily imagines turning and falling into those arms.  Burying his face in Duo's neck.  It's been five and a half years since the last time—the _only_ time—he'd cried on Duo.  His body slowly tenses with the effort it takes to hold himself in check.  Leaning would be... asking far too much at the moment.

            "Don't."

            The hand on his shoulder squeezes in conjunction with that softly spoken demand.  Heero turns away from the glass.  His lost gaze finds a moment of solace in Duo's compassion.  And then he's falling.

            Duo meets him, opening himself and pulling Heero close.  He feels Heero's strong hands gripping his shoulders and replies by curling his own arms more tightly around him.  He feels the wetness of Heero's tears against his neck and responds by rubbing his cheek against his messy hair.  They'd had this conversation before, but they hadn't understood the language then.

            In five and a half years, a lot has changed.

**.**

            **Taki scans** the crowd for her lover's familiar glower.  Backpack slung over her shoulder and hand wrapped around Jaspien's much smaller fingers, she pushes through the throng.  She spares a glance at her companion's pale, drawn features.  The little boy is convinced that something bad has happened to Heero and Duo, and, in a manner of speaking, that is true.  But their lives are hardly in danger.   At least, that had been what she'd gleaned from Wufei's terse message.  Lucifer-on-a-tricycle, what had he been thinking when he'd sent: _"We're on L4.  Yokaze's ill.  I've chartered your flight."_

            Sometimes she wishes she'd had the sense to get involved with a poet.  

            And then a break in the surging humanity allows her a glimpse of black hair and crossed arms.  She pulls Jaspien the remainder of the way as carefully as her adrenalin-overloaded body will allow.

            Her gaze moves over him, noting the somewhat wrinkled uniform, the dark shadows under his eyes, and the slight slump of his shoulders.  When had he last slept?  For more than an hour at a time?

            "You're back to work," she observes.

            He nods.  He reaches out, sliding his palm down her arm in greeting.  "The Preventers are involved now."

            She leans into the touch, thanking whatever gods may be that he's okay... a little worn out maybe, but really okay.  "Tell me about Yokaze."

            And he does, with the saddest expression she's ever seen on him.  Dumbly, she repeats, "Plague."  Taki blinks.  "But that was wiped out _years_ ago."

            Wufei doesn't try to steer her toward the exit.  He knows this information is too important to pass casually.  "It was.  She was injected.  We're still looking for the person responsible."

            Taki grapples with several thoughts at once.  "But, can't she just tell you...?"

            The pained expression on his face kills her attempt at the question.  "She's not... conscious, love."

            She stands there, not knowing what to do, to think.

            "Taki, you're crushing me."

            With a start, she releases Jaspien's hand.  "I'm sorry, Jas."

            "It's okay," he assures her.  And then he turns those brown eyes toward Wufei.  "Is Hero okay?  And Duo?"

            Wufei nods.  "Yes, they are both okay.  Heero is very sad because Yokaze is sick, but he is okay."

            "Duo can cheer him up," Jaspien says with a bit more confidence.

            The corner of Wufei's mouth lifts.  "Yes, with a little help from you, I think he can, too."

            The journey through the spaceport and to the hospital blurs.  Taki is peripherally aware of sliding doors, an elevator, long corridors, and then she's standing on the other side of the glass.

            "Can I...?"  She gestures toward the figure on the bed.

            Wufei shakes his head.  "No.  She's still under quarantine..."  He pauses and the telling silence draws Taki's full attention.

            "What?"

            He nods toward the room again and this time Taki sees a second figure.  Swathed in hospital scrubs and a face mask is Duo.  Although she can't see his mouth beneath the green gauze-like mask, she can see from his animated eyes that he's in a deep one-sided conversation.

            "We all had blood work done.  Duo's the only one with a natural resistance to it.  No one would be in there with her normally, but..."  He sighs.  "She hasn't been sleeping.  And the doctors... with the level of toxins in her system... they can't sedate her.  It's too dangerous.  So Duo... talks her down... from the delirium."  He pauses again, regarding the talkative Maxwell through the glass.  "He's very good with her.  He... told us about..."  Wufei struggles for a moment before settling on the right words: "He has a lot of experience with plague victims."

            _Victim._  The word forces Taki's eyes closed.  She just can't... look anymore.  Not right now.  "I... I'd like to sit down for a minute," she whispers.

            "Of course."  

            Wufei gently guides her to a waiting room, silently sliding open the door.  If she'd been sheltering any secret hopes that this is all just one ugly, horrid joke, the interior of the waiting room would have squashed them.  In a chair beside a coffee table sporting a lamp, Trowa looks not so much like he'd fallen asleep but more like he'd simply passed out.  Heero sits opposite the door, considering the empty paper cup in his hands, waiting for the doctor or Duo to return and report.  Upon seeing Jaspien, Heero somehow manages to find a smile for him.

            "Hey," he says, doing one of the finest imitations of Duo Maxwell Taki's ever seen.  He opens his arms and Jaspien launches for him, clamoring roughly into his lap.  She tries not to listen to Jaspien's whispered fears and Heero's quiet reassurances.  Suddenly exhausted, she plops down into the nearest seat.  God, what she wouldn't give to wish this whole nasty mess away...

            A hand on her calf draws her attention and her eyes blink open.  Wufei, crouched in front her, offers her a sad smile.

            "You have to go?" she guesses numbly.

            He nods.  The L4 Preventer headquarters are understaffed and there are four laptops full of data to go through, leads to follow-up on, authorities to alert and report to.  They had all known that this is how the mission would end up: in the hands of professionals.  But Heero had been surprisingly adamant about turning over Yokaze's computer.  _There's a file,_ he'd said, _called "Zero-one."  No one except you is going to see it, Chang._  It hadn't been a question.

            Wufei hadn't gone through it yet.  Something about the tone of Heero's voice had warned him about what he would find.  Needless to say, he has no desire to open it, but he knows he must.  Even Heero had admitted that there might be something in there relevant to the case.  Names, ranks, sins...  Luckily, there are plenty of other things that demand Wufei's attention today.  Perhaps tomorrow he will tackle that file...

            He reaches up, smoothing a lock of hair behind Taki's ear.  "Will you call if you go to Quatre's before I return?"

            She nods.

            His lips brush her forehead as he stands.  He tosses a nod in Heero's direction, a worried glance at Trowa, and quietly departs.

**.**

            **Duo's head snaps up** as the sounds of pain hit him.

            God _dammit_, he'd nodded off again.

            He clears his throat and fights back his body's instinctual reaction as he gradually comprehends the content of Yokaze's mumbled words... whimpers... pleas.  He leans forward and begins speaking to her.  Softly.  Gently.  Calling her back.  The doctors had been adamant that Duo not touch her and, considering the kind of shit she's wading through in her head, that's just as well.

            Carefully, Duo forces his thoughts away from the garbled half-sentences that have begun to paint a very distinct picture of Yokaze's life on L1.  He talks to her about Earth, places he's wanted to visit.  Clouds.  He misses clouds out here in the colonies sometimes.  And mountains.  He likes mountains.  Duo mumbles on in that vein for some time and she seems to listen.  She quiets.  The memories recede.  And Duo's stomach settles.  

            He tries not to think of what he will say to Heero and Trowa when he leaves her side for a bite to eat and a quick nap.  They look to him to tell them the truth.  He feels guilty for avoiding the topic of her state of mind.  The things he's overheard are not his to tell.  She had not even been aware of saying them and Duo is compelled to protect her secrets for her.  

            Duo is in the middle of describing his ideal tropical island paradise (no mosquitoes, of course... at least the colonies got _that_ right) when the door opens.  He glances from the two nurses to the clock.  Ah, it's time for dinner, a check-up, and a bath.  He stretches and greets his relief.  After a short exchange, he heads for the showers.

            He longs for the luxury of washing his hair, but doesn't have the time.  He strips out of his scrubs and tosses them in the hazardous waste disposal unit before turning on the hot water in one of the stalls.  He uses the soap they'd given him to kill any remnants of the plague that might be clinging to his skin and rinses hastily.  Even the towel he dries himself off with goes into the incinerator.

            Longing for his own clothes, Duo pulls on a fresh set of the green hospital garments.  He takes a seat on the bench and stuffs his feet into a pair of socks.  God, he's so tired.  He's had maybe two hours of sleep in the last two days.  He leans back against the wall, telling himself he'll rest for a minute.  Just a minute.  And then he'll get something to eat and take a nap until the nurses are finished with Yokaze...

            "Duo."

            Duo's entire body jerks at the sound.  He opens his eyes and realizes that he'd fallen asleep.  He turns and finds Trowa beside him on the bench.

            "What time is it?" Duo croaks.

            Trowa tells him. 

            With a frown, Duo forces his atrophied mind to do the calculations.  "They'll be finished pretty soon."

            "I know," the other man says.  "But you needed the rest."  Trowa reaches beside him and produces a tray from the cafeteria.  "Here."

            "Thanks, man," Duo tells him sincerely, unwrapping a ham and cheese sandwich.

            "It's the least I can do."  Trowa pauses and Duo eats.  Half way through the sandwich and well into the slice of apple pie, Trowa continues, "I can't repay your kindness.  Thank you, Duo."

            With the aid of some lukewarm coffee, Duo swallows his bite and then levels his gaze on the man next to him.  "It's nothing, Trowa.  I'm glad I can do something.  Besides, as soon as her fever breaks, they'll lift the quarantine.  It won't be long now and she'll have you and Heero for company."  Duo shrugs.  "I'm just a substitute, really."

            "Don't say that."  Trowa's gaze hardens as he considers his friend.  "You're the only person who can guide her through this.  That's no small thing, Duo Maxwell."

            Duo offers Trowa a rueful smile.  "I just wish...  I mean, Heero is..."

            "Drawing strength from knowing you're helping to take care of her," Trowa finishes firmly.  "As am I.  Now eat your dinner."

            Duo answers with a cocky grin.  "Okay, _Dad_."

            Trowa snorts.  "Smart ass."

**.**

            **Bisho hesitates** on the threshold.  She'd knocked but there'd been no response.  So, she'd pushed the door open and called his name.  But he hadn't heard her.

            He stands not ten paces away, dressed only in a pair of snug boxer shorts, staring out the window.  She's never seen Quatre this tense before.  The muscles across his shoulders and back are drawn tight.  His right hand fists at his side.  It's been a rough couple of days.  Bisho herself had been just a tad bit put-off by the fact that Quatre and her brother had given her the cold shoulder on C555.  But, once she'd heard about Yokaze, her own irritation had just fizzled out.  She can tell that Quatre is just as upset as everyone else over it, knows that he doesn't have the time to wait around at the hospital with everyone else—between the Preventers and Winner Enterprises he has barely enough time for sleep—and suspects that there is something else, something deeper that has been bothering him for the last few days.

            For a moment, Bisho considers backing out of the room but...  She chews her lip nervously.  She sets the tea service down on the desk in silence.  She hopes he'll forgive her for intruding on his privacy because she really doesn't think it's possible for her to just turn around and leave him like this.

            She approaches slowly, edging into his peripheral vision.  His glare never travels from that mysterious point beyond the window.  He gives no indication that he senses her presence at all.  So she decides to do something he won't be _able_ to ignore.

            Quatre starts violently as an arm slides around his waist and a warm body nestles against him.  Bisho.  He finds himself relaxing against her without another conscious thought.

            She looks out the window, too, considering the artificial horizon.  "Tell me about it," she invites.

            With a small sigh, Quatre wraps an arm around her shoulders.  "You don't want to hear any of it.  Trust me."

            There is a short pause.  "You may be right," she agrees.  And then she lifts her gaze to study his pained expression.  "But that's not why I'm here."  Bisho turns back to the window and gives Quatre a moment to collect himself for what he knows is coming:  "So, tell me what happened."

            A moment of silence descends between them, but his arm remains curled around her.  "I... killed.  Men just doing their jobs.  I wanted to disarm them.  Take them with us for questioning.  But I couldn't trust them not to endanger the scientists and children.  The decision was mine.  I was the team leader.  And I... gave the orders."

            Bisho says nothing.  There's more.  With Quatre, there's always more.  Nothing is ever that simple.  That one-dimensional.

            After a bit, he continues, "A week ago, I would have given almost anything to... be out there.  _Doing_ something instead of sitting in boardrooms, touring properties, debating investment options.  And finally, I got my wish.  But I... realize now that I... I just can't have that life anymore.  Every minute I was in there I... hated it.  I thought it would be so different.  That it would, I don't know, _complete_ me.  Sometimes I hate my place in the world so much.  That was one of the reasons I became a pilot in the war.  To _do_ something.  To _be_ someone.  To be valued for what I had _done_.  I thought I could be that person again.  I thought I _wanted_ to be that person again.  Now all I've got is the life I wanted to get away from all those years ago.  Maybe I should just stop fighting it.  Accept my... fate."

            Bisho's arms tighten around him.  "Don't.  Don't you dare just give in.  I haven't stuck around this long just for you to give up now."

            Quatre blinks down at her, started by the vehemence in her voice.

            "I know you're not happy," she quietly confesses.

            His eyes clench shut.  "I'm sorry, Bisho.  I didn't mean for you to see that.  I—"

            "I'd be unhappy, too."

            He opens his eyes and stares down at the top of her head, watches the colony light play with her hair.

            She takes a breath and confides, "I like it when I can get you to laugh, to forget.  But, laughing at one of my dumb jokes isn't the same thing as being happy.  I want to see you happy, Quatre.  I just... I don't know what to do.  So I make you laugh.  It's the best I can offer, and it's not enough.  I'm sorry."

            "Bisho..." he breathes, wrapping her up tightly in both his arms.  "Don't say that.  What you... give me...  It's so much...  It's more than enough."  He pulls back far enough to nudge her chin up with his knuckles.  He meets her gaze steadily, and tells her, "When I'm around you, I'm happy.  Dumb jokes or no.  Just you... and I'm happy."

            She smiles slowly, sincerely.  "And I'm happy when I'm here."

            His fingers ghost over her cheek.  "Thank you, Bisho."

            Her arms tighten around him for a moment.  "It's going to be okay, Q."

            Quatre laughs at her certainty.  His hands brush her hair away from her face before embracing her once more.  He feels the softness of her cheek brush against his chest, feels the heat of her breath on his bare skin.  And suddenly, Quatre realizes what he's _not_ wearing.  He leaps back, groping blindly for a robe.

            "Oh my God...  I'm practically naked... in my _underwear_..."  He feels himself flush hotly as he shoves his arms into a terrycloth bathrobe.

            Behind him, Bisho is grinning widely.  "You won't hear any complaints from _me._"

            And he has to laugh.  Belting the garment in place, he looks at her again.  "I'm..."  The apology dies on his lips at the look of pure delight on her face.  Still smiling, she tells him to sit down before heading for the desk and pouring two cups of tea.  Quatre indulges in watching her move around his room and by the time she's snuggled in next to him on the loveseat, he's regained his composure.  He knows it's almost time for his daily visit to Yokaze, knows the others are waiting for them at the hospital.  He knows Bisho knows this, too.  She makes no effort to rush this moment and simply leans against him.  They sip in companionable silence until Quatre's curiosity gets the better of him.

            "Bisho?"

            "Hm?"  

            "How did you know I needed... this?"

            She gives him a long, open look.  "Everyone needs... something."

            And then, teacup nestled in her hands and quiet smile on her lips, she lays her head against his shoulder, wordlessly communicating how completely exquisite this "something" is.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 27~**


	29. Chapter 28: Memories

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 28: Memories**

**.**

            **_The _****_Alliance_****_ base_**_ isn't on any map, but still, for Nanashi, it's not that difficult to find.  He's spent all of his known life avoiding notice.  Following the soldier back to headquarters had been a simple matter of stealth and hitching a ride in the man's covered truck.  And now here he is, laying in the shadows of the truck bed, waiting for the sun to go down completely._

            The door to the waiting room opens, but Trowa doesn't look up.  The coffee cup in his hands holds sudden, inexplicable appeal to him.  The past few days and nights are beginning to catch up to him.  He can barely remember what it feels like to sleep in a bed beside his lover.  It's starting to seem as if he's spent his entire life dozing in one of the worn hospital chairs.  Dozing.  That is his real problem.  If he'd managed to actually _rest_ the night before then perhaps he'd have the strength to fight off the damn memories.

            A body settles into the seat beside him but he's too exhausted to spare any of his attention.  Slowly, relentlessly, he is pulled into the past.

            _He's never infiltrated a military base before.  He's never attempted to redirect the enemy without the use of firearms or vehicles.  He waits and watches the changing of the guards through the ventilation grate.  He hopes this half-formed plan will work._

_            It's well past two hundred hours when he feels confident that he's memorized the guards' timing.  Every twenty-six minutes, they check this room.  He stares at the clock through the metal wires and listens to the sound of the door sliding open.  A flashlight beam sweeps across the room.  The door closes once more._

_            He works quickly, quietly prying the grate loose from the wall and sliding into the dark room.  His eyes have long since adjusted but his hesitation comes from the foreign device before him.  He's never worked on a computer this large, with so many displays.  Still, the same basic principle must apply.  Nothing is labeled so he makes an educated guess as to which button will activate the system._

_            His guess is incorrect._

_            He starts as the alarms scream to life.  Without glancing over his shoulder, he dives for the vent.  He knows he doesn't have time to replace the grate.  It's down to a race, now._

_            Wordlessly he berates himself.  He should not have moved so quickly.  He should have waited.  Observed the officers in this room during the day.  He has been careless._

_            He cannot afford to be careless._

_            He squirms through the slick, cold passages, clinging to the rough recollection of the station map he'd built in his mind since entering via the cargo bay doors.  He's close.  He _knows_ he's close.  The cargo bay and maze upon maze of crates and boxes—shelter—awaits him just ahead.  But then a small, insistent sound asserts itself over the noise of his breathless pants.  A hissing._

_            He crawls faster, but the air thickens around him.  A foul smell rolls up from the depths of the air conditioning system.  He knows enough to realize it's some sort of gas before the chill of the metal ducts fades and he's left with nothing but black._

**.**

            **Quatre gently pries** the cold, stale coffee from between Trowa's hands and slides a fresh cup in its place.  The man doesn't even notice.  He's completely unresponsive.  Concerned, Quatre looks up and snags Heero's gaze.

            "How long has he been like this?"

            Heero's darkly shadowed eyes regard the slumped, seated figure.  Softly, so as not to wake Jaspien, Heero says, "Since I... woke up this morning."

            Quatre doesn't argue with Heero's choice of words even though both of them know Heero isn't sleeping so much as drifting.  Heero hadn't "woken up."  Rather, he'd become aware of his surroundings and the fact that he is out of coffee at approximately six a.m.  With an inaudible sigh, his gaze falls to Jaspien, curled up against Heero's chest.

            "Shall I take him back to my apartment?"

            Slowly, Heero shakes his head.  "He needs to see that Duo's alright first."  At Quatre's delicately arced brow, he reluctantly elaborates, "He keeps having nightmares about... something happening to him."

            Again, a half-truth.  Quatre can see that Heero knows exactly what happens to Duo in Jaspien's nightmares, but declines to say.

            "You really need to get some quality sleep," he advises.  "The doctors won't let you visit her looking like a stiff wind would knock you over.  Your immune system must be completely—"

            "Just until she wakes up," Heero doggedly replies.  He meets his friend's gaze for a long moment, daring him to argue, before looking away and effectively ending that line of conversation.

            With a frown, Quatre turns to see that Trowa is still staring blankly into the steaming coffee.  He decides to try once more to get his attention.  He calls his name three times, but is ignored.  Standing, Quatre combs his fingers through his hair, expressing his exasperation.

            "I'm going down to the cafeteria.  Any requests?"

            The question goes unanswered.  Not that he'd really expected a response.  Biting back a second sigh, Quatre steps out into the hall.  Automatically, he glances through the glass at Duo's weary figure leaning close to Yokaze's.

            _Wake up, Yokaze,_ he calls silently, wondering if a plea from his heart is any more audible than Duo's rambling stories.

**.**

            **_"You're kinda cute, kid."_**

_            Nanashi does not offer a reply.  The soldier leers at him, amused by the boy's stony silence.  But behind him, framed in the cell doorway, his partner is not nearly so entertained._

_            "Jesus.  That's disgusting, man.  Go rent yourself a whore."  The tone of the second man's voice indicates he considers this conversation closed.  "Or at least someone the age of consent."_

_            The man looming over Nanashi grins suggestively.  His soft reply reaches only as far as himself at the prisoner.  "We'll see."_

_            Nanashi does not watch them depart.  He listens to the sounds of their footsteps and the hiss of the door sliding into place.  Locking.  His gaze flicks around the dark room once just to confirm that he is alone.  Although he's fairly certain he isn't being monitored, he does not move from his place against the wall.  He does not intend to waste valuable energy pacing.  Energy he's sure he'll need later for... other things._

_            Like fighting off that guard._

_            Nanashi is not innocent.  He knows what happens to captured mercs.  His captain had made sure he'd understood the sorts of tortures and techniques the __Alliance__ might use.  Thus far, he's been treated rather well.  No one has touched him.  Yet._

_            He refuses to drink their water and eat their food.  It's a calculated risk but he can't afford to be drugged.  He needs a clear head but he also needs his strength.  So he waits.  It's not long before another officer enters the cell.  Another attempt to convince Nanashi to work for the __Alliance__.__  Be like _her_._

_            He refuses._

_            "Still considering our offer?" the man asks pleasantly._

_            No reply._

_            "I hope you haven't forgotten all of the benefits I listed."_

_            He remembers._

_            Taking in the boy's stubborn silence, the officer continues, "But I did forget one."  The man chuckles.  "Actually, it's two.  The Benders."_

_            Nanashi is very careful not to react.  He'd been expecting this.  Of course Johan and Iris would have noticed his absence by now.  He'd just hoped they hadn't told the police_..._ that the police hadn't told the __Alliance_...__

_            "We have an officer with them right now," the man continues.  "Sometimes we help with missing persons cases.  They seem really concerned.  It'd be a shame if something happened to you."_

_            The veiled threat receives no response._

_            "Even worse if something happened to Johan and Iris.  Do you know how old their home is?"_

_            Nanashi stares at the opposite wall, striving to look bored._

_            "It's registered with the local historical society.  A real landmark.  Nothing's been changed on it since the town first got gas lamps and electricity.  Wiring wasn't an exact science back then.  Lots of houses burn down every year due to bad connections."_

_            He wants very badly to fist his hands, but he forces himself to stare placidly back._

_            "Johan and Iris are good people.  Took you in.  Gave you a job.  Offered you room and board."  The officer sighs.  "They'll be missed."_

_            The man turns toward the door.  Nanashi weighs his options.  If he allows the officer to walk out that door, he risks the lives of Johan and Iris, he risks that guard suddenly finding some free time on his hands, he risks loosing what little strength and presence of mind he has, risks being drugged and interrogated._

_            Slowly, he draws a breath.  "What do you want from me?"_

_            The question is delivered in a bland tone.  He admits to nothing except mild curiosity.  Still, the officer smiles in triumph._

_            "I'll let you know when you're ready to work for us."_

_            The door closes once more._

_            Nanashi stares at the portal and knows he cannot afford to wait any longer._

**.**

            **For a moment,** Wufei hesitates before the waiting room door.  He is not sure Heero is able to hear the news he brings.  Not sure now is the time to tell him.  But Wufei knows that Heero _must_ be told.

            He reaches out, but only allows his fingertips to brush against the door.  Very deliberately, he fortifies himself with a deep breath.  He is aware of what must be said.  Just as he is aware of the blood-chilling data from which he'd drawn his conclusion.  He tries not to dwell on the data.  The conclusion is what is important right now.  Later, he will sort through what he has read and... deal.

            The portal slides open a few inches and Wufei quickly scans the room.  He meets Heero's gaze and nods both a greeting and a request for him to come out into the hall.  Heero gently disentangles himself from a sleeping Jaspien and crosses the room.  Wufei takes in the same stale, wrinkled clothes and knows that Heero hasn't yet left the hospital since Yokaze's admittance.  Without a word, he leads his friend over to Yokaze's window, the nearest out-of-the-way nook in the hall.

            "Yuy..." Wufei attempts, turning to face the other man.

            Heero's gaze holds no emotion whatsoever.  "This is about 'Zero-one.'"

            Wufei nods.  "Yes.  I read the... file."  His gaze darts briefly to the room beyond the glass, taking in Yokaze's pallor and Duo's exhausted form.  "Heero," he says, "you were right."  He can see Yokaze's brother stiffen beside him.  He elaborates.  "I've compared the interviews and reports from the base doctors with the... data from Yokaze's training.  The methodologies, the tests, the objectives are... identical."  He looks, finally, into Heero's cobalt eyes.  "I know you hadn't wanted to be right.  I'm sorry."

            Slowly, Heero nods.  His teeth clench in the resulting silence.  So, someone from the L1 organization _is_ responsible.  Yokaze's mission all those years ago had not succeeded in wiping out the institution, after all.  Arms crossed, he gazes through the glass and says very quietly, "Do not tell her."

            Wufei takes a breath with which to protest, but closes his mouth instead.  Heero is right.  First she must heal.  They can discuss this again at a later date.  Wufei nods but Heero no longer pays him any attention.  With a slight frown of concern, he glances from his friend to the scene beyond the window... and the look in Duo's expressive eyes.

            His gaze returns to Heero briefly and he sees it: across distance and through glass, Heero pours out his devastation and fear.  And with only a look, Duo offers what he can, shoring him up.  Silently, Wufei backs away from their moment.  He knows when he's no longer welcome.

**.**

              **_The guards_**_ had made a mistake.  They'd started to relax around their charge's mild behavior.  When one of them had come to remove the tray of untouched food, he'd turned his back on the captured boy.  And his partner in the hall hadn't been paying attention to the brief struggle inside the cell.  The mercenaries had taught Nanashi well.  He'd attacked._

_            And he'd run._

_            He hadn't even bothered going to the motor pool.  A vehicle required roads, made noise.  He knows he'll have better luck on foot.  As long as there aren't any dogs.  He tries not to think about it as he stumbles through the forest.  Forty-eight hours of neither food nor water have left him weak, but he cannot stop._

_            He thinks about Johan and Iris.  Wonders if the officer had been bluffing about placing them under house arrest.  Hopes he'll make it to town before the changing of the cell guards and the inevitable discovery that must follow.  Prays he'll have enough time to warn the Benders._

_            His chest aches with the knowledge that he's caused all of this.  Knows that whatever happens now will be completely his own fault.  Knows that he's betrayed... all over again._

_            He cannot clearly recall his flight through the wilderness.  He has no memory of falling, scraping his hands, shoving branches away from his face.  The next thing he does remember is staring, mute and frozen, at the blazing inferno that had once been a metalworker's shop._

_            For an entire minute, he doesn't understand.  Where is the house?  Where are Iris and Johan?  But he knows.  The firefighters struggle to keep the blaze under control.  The neighbors and friends, clothed in their housecoats and pajamas, hold onto each other in the street.  Mourning._

_            Nanashi remains crouched in the relative cover at the edge of the forest and watches.  The Benders and their home_..._ gone._

_            Months ago, he'd done nothing and had betrayed his troupe.  He'd tried to do _something_ to save Johan and Iris_..._ this town_..._ this place that had almost been_..._ could have become Nanashi's home._

_            This time, he hadn't done nothing.  But the betrayal is the same._

I am a soldier.__

_            He understands now.  There is no home for him.  There is no safe place.  There is only death._

_            Long before the blaze has died down, Nanashi has moved on.  With dawn approaching, he pauses at the edge of town and gazes up at the still-dark sky.  Outer space.  Utter emptiness.  Absolute zero.  Home to no one._

_            It's perfect._

**.**

            **"Trowa misses you.**  He never says it, well, because I keep cutting him off.  He says, 'Duo, tell her I—' and then I hold up a hand and reply, 'Say no more.'  He's got it bad for you, woman.  Seriously.  You'd damn well better snap out of it soon because I'm not sure how much longer he can hold himself back and I do _not_ want to be the one to hear him pour his heart out.  I mean, wouldn't _that_ be awkward..."

            No response.  Duo sighs.  He leans back in his chair and resists the urge to scrub at the imaginary grit he can feel in his eyes.  A long, deep sigh whispers past his lips.  The weight of everything—Yokaze's illness, Trowa's withdraw, Heero's desperation—is beginning to overwhelm him.  Duo's not sure he can sit here one more day.  Hell, one more _hour_ is pushing it.  But what other options are there?

            God, but he _hates_ this waiting.

            Duo draws a calming breath, grasps onto more words, opens his eyes and...

            ...is greeted by a very familiar wry expression.

            He wastes a whole ten seconds, staring.  "Yo... Yokaze?" he manages to rasp out.

            The corners of her mouth twitch into a bigger grin.

            He can feel her gaze as he practically falls all over himself reaching for the cup of half-melted ice chips.  Half-expecting to find himself dreaming, he carefully feeds her one shard at a time.  When he pauses between pieces, she tries her voice.

            "Duo?"

            "Yes, peach?"  He marvels at her.  Here she is, weak and battered and ill, wearing that same _I-find-this-far-too-amusing_ smirk on her face.

            "Wonder...  Have you... ever... talked... yourself hoarse?"

            Duo laughs.  "Just how long have you been awake, anyway?"

            She opens her mouth for another ice chip.  Once it's melted and soothed her throat, she answers, "Not awake.  But... I heard you."

            He doesn't know what to say.  He struggles to remember all that he'd talked about.  His dreams.  His fears.  Heero.  Oh, _bugger._  He can feel her penetrating gaze on him and finds himself fidgeting with the cup of ice.

            "I'm... sorry."

            Duo meets her gaze before the whisper has died on her lips.  The amusement has vanished from her face.  "For what?"

            "I couldn't... stop it.  You... heard... everything.  So sorry."

            The look she gives him...  _Screw doctor's orders,_ Duo thinks fiercely and reaches for her hand.  "I know you didn't mean to say anything.  I know.  And it goes no further than the two of us.  I swear."

            Her complete relief eases the lines of strain from her forehead.  She relaxes back against the pillow.  "You're... such... a babe."

            Duo chuckles.  "Only for you, peach."  He slides another ice chip into her mouth and regards her seriously.  "We need to call your doctor."

            She nods once.

            Duo hesitates.

            The hand around his tightens, drawing his attention back to her.  He answers the question in her gaze.  With a sigh, he tells her, "As soon as I walk out that door, they're going to want to know..."

            "I'm fine," she replies after a pause.  "Really tired.  But fine."

            Again, Duo hesitates over the next words but forces them out regardless.  "Yo, what the hell happened at target E?"

            "I..."

            He can feel her grip on his hand, surprisingly strong.  Afraid of letting go.  Of falling back into that place she'd barely escaped from.

            "I..."

            He waits.  She's exhausted and he can plainly see the struggle she endures with her thoughts.

            "I don't remember."

            Duo reaches forward and smoothes her hair away from her face.  "Okay," he says.

            Her eyes close.  She leans into him, trusting him.

            "Don't fade out on me now.  We've gotta get the doc in here."

            Yokaze nods and holds onto his hand.  He presses the button that will summon the nurses and returns to feeding her bits of ice.  Duo holds onto her until he hears footsteps outside the door.  Her eyes slide open as his hand slips away.  Their gazes meet and he smiles for her, silently assuring her that he will keep her secrets... and protect her lie.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 28~**


	30. Chapter 29: Silence Broken

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 29: Silence Broken**

**.**

            **"I love you, Quatre."**

            The man addressed laughs as he notes Yokaze's gaze is fixed not on _him_ but on the pint of "boy" ice cream he's smuggled in_._  He produces a spoon from a separate jacket pocket and replies, "I know."

            He pries the lid off the container, stabs the spoon into it, and passes it to her.  He tells her about everyone, anticipating her questions as she rolls the forbidden treat over her taste buds with relish.  He knows she worries about the others.  In the past several days she's come to trust him for candid information since she is unable to observe them herself.

            "Heero's doing well enough.  I think the L4 Preventers are starting to second-guess the wisdom of inviting him to help with the investigation.  When he's not here, he's at the office."

            Yokaze pauses and looks concerned.  "Is he getting any sleep?"

            "Of course!  I've got him under a strict curfew."

            She snorts at that and tries to look casual as she asks, "Are they making any headway with the investigation?"

            He shakes his head.  "Not that I've heard.  They've sent Trowa's laptop on to the computer forensics department on Earth to go over it with a fine tooth comb, so to speak.  But they've finished with yours."

            She is suddenly very, very still.  "What about my computer?"

            "Wufei returned it to Trowa yesterday.  It's at my apartment."  He hesitates.  "You didn't know they had it.  I'm sorry I didn't think to tell you sooner..."

            "How did Wufei get my computer?" she asks slowly, attempting to clarify things.

            "Apparently, Heero asked him to go through it.  He thought there might be something that might help the Preventers."  He takes care with the wording of the following thought.  "But it did seem as... as if he didn't want...  I think he was looking to Wufei for discretion."  Quatre observes Yokaze glaring at the contents of the ice cream pint.

            She agrees, "That is Wufei's specialty."  Then she abruptly forces an impish grin.  "Except where Taki's concerned."

            Quatre pretends he hadn't seen her troubled expression.  A wry grin pulls at his lips.  "Yeah.  My apartment at the academy was right below theirs..."

            Yokaze groans in sympathy.  "You should have said something, Q."

            "It was alright.  I just turned some music on to cover the noise."

            She shakes her head.  "No, I would have taken the opportunity to make more recordings."  Her grin is suddenly rather feral and very evil.  "I have an extensive collection of _very_ sensitive equipment."

            "Of that I have no doubt," he returns, appreciating the double entendre.

            "After Duo's party, there's no way you could."

            Yokaze looks up, eyes twinkling at the wry comment offered by the newcomer.  "Don't go comparing notes now, you two," she teases.

            Quatre regards Trowa with a sheepish expression.  "Sorry, Trowa.  I know how you feel about sharing your toys—"

            "Oi!"  That protest from Yokaze.

            Trowa smirks.  "Speaking of... your boy-toy called."

            Quatre looks rather startled by that mild statement.

            Yokaze just grins.  "Luke?"

            Trowa nods.  "Somehow he found out you were involved with C555."

            "Oh, Lord.  I'm glad I didn't take that call."

            He affirms, "He was rather... adamant."

            Her left brow arcs in silent question.

            Trowa paraphrases, "If I'm such 'hot stuff' how come I couldn't keep you from working on your vacation?"

            Quatre snorts.

            Yokaze looks puzzled.  "He called on my computer?  You have it booted up?"

            Trowa shakes his head.  "Heero's."

            Yokaze tries to keep her grin to herself.  "He didn't call him 'sex-kitten' did he?"

            Quatre sees there's a rather interesting story behind all of this.  He'll have to quiz either one of them later about it.

            With an arced brow, Trowa returns, "Before or after he figured out he wasn't talking to you?"

            Yokaze laughs.

            Quatre is chuckling as well when his phone rings.  With an apologetic smile, he excuses himself.

            As the door swings shut behind him, Yokaze grins up at her remaining visitor.  "I wish you'd had him wear a wire for that...  I'm sorry I missed it."

            A small frown erases the humor from Trowa's face.  "I had the Preventers check out the transmitter you wore.  They couldn't find anything wrong with it, either."  He slides into the chair beside her bed and reaches for her hand.  "I'm so sorry, Yo."

            She blinks at him, looking startled.

            Drawing a breath, he meets her gaze.  "If the transmitter hadn't shorted out..."  He struggles with communicating his thoughts as the image of her being overwhelmed by foes and forcibly injected plays out in his mind.  How long had she lain on that floor, calling for help and receiving only empty silence in response?  How had the malfunction gotten past him in the first place?  He'd checked and re-checked and tested every transmitter.  He can taste the frustration his thoughts are generating.

            Her fingers caress his hand.  She knows where his thoughts are leading and offers this simple touch for distraction.

            Trowa draws a deep, silent breath.  Voice flat and objective once again, he muses, "It must have been a problem with the computer, then."

            Her fingers tighten just slightly around his hand.  "When will you know?"

            "Soon.  Tonight, maybe."

            She nods once.  "Good."

            The hospital room door swings open once more.  "Ms. Yuy?"

            Yokaze grins for the nurse.   "Present."

            The older woman strides over to the bed to get a good look at her charge.  "Are you ready for your physical therapy?"

            "As I'll ever be."

            Between the nurse and Trowa, Yokaze is transferred swiftly and efficiently to the wheelchair.  As he holds the door open for them, he tells her, "I'll be here when you get back."

            Yokaze draws a breath to argue.  He can't possibly be getting a great deal of quality rest spending the night in a chair beside her bed... but she sees that _look._

            _I sleep where you sleep._

            She says, "See you later."

            As the pair disappears around the corner, Trowa discovers Quatre at his elbow, phone call now finished.  He studies the look on his friend's face, notices the way Quatre clutches the phone to his chest, over his heart.

            "Quatre?"

            "Is she alright?" he replies.

            Trowa frowns.

            Quatre shifts and looks a little embarrassed.  "I... saw you talking.  Through the window."

            He nods.  "We still haven't been able to determine why her transmitter stopped functioning."

            "Hm," Quatre replies vaguely.

            "What is it?"

            Quatre struggles to describe the expression he's never seen from her before.  "She looked..."  _Wounded._  "...a little..."  _Broken._  "...perhaps..."  _Shattered._  "...upset."

            Trowa glances away but Quatre manages to catch a glimpse of the guilt in his eyes.  He rests his unoccupied hand on his friend's shoulder.  "Don't, Trowa.  It was an accident.  It wasn't your fault."

            The muscles along Trowa's jaw tense.  He says quietly, "Maybe."

            One way or another, they'd all know for sure by tomorrow night.

**.**

            **"Heero."******

            Heero Yuy looks up from the reports he's evaluating and everything in him just... stops at the look on Wufei's face.  "What—?"  His voice cracks.  He clears his throat and starts again.  "What is it?"

            Wufei doesn't reply with words, but with another damn nod of his head indicating Heero is to follow him.  He stands quickly, the force of the movement sending the office chair spinning away from him.  In tense silence, he trails Wufei Chang down the hall to a small conference room.  He waves Heero through the door ahead of him then locks it behind them.

            Heero blinks at the sound then fixes his gaze on Wufei.  Enough stalling.

            Wufei says quietly, as though they might be overheard, "The technicians finished with Barton's laptop."

            "And?"

            "And there was nothing wrong with the transmitter."

            Heero frowns.  "What?"

            "Heero, she dialed down the volume.  Intentionally."

            "Do you know why?"

            Wufei motions to a chair.  "Sit down."

            Reluctantly, Heero sits as Wufei pulls the phone towards them across the table.

            "They were able to recover her audio file.  Although the volume was off, it still recorded in a backup file.  They had a lot of work enhancing it and there are still things... missing."  Wufei glances at Heero.  "I don't understand what's going on here, Yuy.  I'm hoping you can fill me in."  Without further preamble, he engages the speakerphone and punches in an extension.  "Agent Barrows?  This is Chang at L4.  We're ready.  Play the recording."

**.**

            **_Darkness._****__**

_            The door slithers closed behind her._

_            Silence._

_            Expectant silence._

_            She's not alone._

_            Then the lights above begin to glow softly.  That's when she sees them: eight uniformed guards.  Her training engages.  She reaches for her gun.  But then she hears the voice._

His_ voice.___

_            "Zero-one.  I knew you'd find your way back to me."_

_            She freezes.  _No.__

_            The denial tears her apart, shattering her inner control. But not the mask.  Her mask of composure remains in tact as she stares at the man she'd thought_..._ believed_...hoped_ dead all these years._

_            He smiles from behind the massive desk.  "Welcome, home."_

_            Not dead._

_            She stares at him._

_            But then, she'd never actually _seen_ him die._

_            The weight of her failure competes with the shock._

_            "Although, I was beginning to worry."  He steeples his fingers and regards her with his pale eyes.  "It took you a long time to find me.  Longer than it should have."_

_            She says nothing.  He does not mind her silence.  He never has._

_            "It's _their_ fault, isn't it, Zero-one?"  He motions for her to come closer as he removes a sheath of papers from the desk drawer.  She approaches and watches as he carefully lays each sheet across the gleaming surface.  Identity reports.  Heero.  Trowa.  Duo.  Quatre.  Wufei.  Taki.  George.  Kathy.  Bisho._

_            The General tilts his head to one side.  "It _is_ their fault," he decides.  "They don't understand you.  Could never understand you."  His gaze slides over her.  "Zero-one_..._  Even your name is so_..._ alone.  You've reached out to them, let them in.  But they haven't filled that hole in your soul, have they?"  He pauses and watches her study the reports.  "Do you know why they've failed you?"_

_            She looks up.  Meets those cold, mesmerizing eyes._

_            "Because they aren't me."_

_            He reaches out.  His fingertips trail along the edge of her jaw.  She does not pull away._

_            "You and I_..._  We're one.  The same.  Soulmates.  Only I can understand what you feel, what you endure.  The pain.  The desire.  The adrenalin.  Only I know why you've never stopped taking missions.  Why you move constantly from place to place.  Why you search for another soul to save."_

_            He smiles kindly._

_            "I gave you that.  The need.  And I taught you the skills.  Because of me, you've saved all of these people."  His voice softens as he confides, "I know you hate me for that; I never gave you a choice in the matter.  I'm sorry, Zero-one.  I truly am.  But you are what you are."  He pauses.  "Do you know what that is?"_

_            Slowly, she shakes her head._

_           His voice is almost tender as he says, "Mine.  Just as I am yours.  We'll never be free of each other, you and I.  I am your purpose.  You are my creation.  It all leads us to one, final conclusion."_

_            He leans back in his chair and gestures to their surroundings.  "This station.  This base.  The scientists.  The subjects.  You know why it's all here, don't you?"  He grins.  "Yes, it exists for the mission.  And __Mission__ One's true objective is_..._ you."_

_            She shows no reaction, but he reads her nonetheless._

_            "How else was I going to show you I was still alive?  Still waiting for you to answer my request."_

_            He straightens in his chair and regards her very seriously.  "I'm still waiting for you to show me how_..._ you would kill me."_

_            He chuckles.  "Oh, yes.  I want you to kill me.  I want you to show me that you are, indeed, perfect.  There is no higher compliment to pay a mentor than to surpass him.  Surpass me, Zero-one.  Take my life.  Become my masterpiece.  The taking of a life is_..._ binding.  When I am dead by your hands we will truly be... one.  Inseparable.  For eternity."_

_            Gazing into her eyes, he continues, "You will come for me, won't you?  Yes, of course you will.  After all, you don't need _them."_  He gestures to the reports.  "They cannot give this to you, this belonging.  But, perhaps you've convinced yourself that their good intentions are something."_

_            He sighs.  "Well, Zero-one, I'm going to show you the truth.  Just as you have always shown me the errors of my ways.  I return this favor to you."_

_            The General glances over her shoulder and nods once.  She finds herself bracketed by four guards.  She does not bother to struggle._

_            "I'm going to prove to you that you don't need them.  That you are perfect.  That they are superfluous."_

_            Out of the corner of her eye, she watches a fifth guard prepare a syringe._

_            "It's plague," he tells her, grinning.  "A dosage no one has ever survived before.  But you can.  I built you to survive."_

_            The man with the syringe of death approaches._

_            "It's highly contagious."_

_            Her eyes focus on the small photos on each of the reports before her._

_            "And at this dosage, the symptoms will be_..._ accelerated."_

_            The bite of the needle stings her flesh._

_            "Anyone who touches you will, at the very least, suffer greatly.  So, it's in your best interests to escape unaided."  The General offers her a sympathetic look.  "It'd be a shame if you infected them.  But it would be even worse if you did the noble thing and ended your life."_

_            He smiles, delighted.  "It'd be so tragic if you never got to say good-bye."_

_            One of the guards comes around the desk to maneuver the General's wheelchair.  "Understand this, Zero-one.  I will give you two weeks to realize the truth.  If I am still alive_..._"  His gaze flickers to the small portraits on the desk.  "Then I shall have to find other means of proving my point."_

_            His gaze is suddenly fierce.  "They will not have you!  You're mine.  You belong with me."_

_            She sways on her feet as the poison begins its work.  The guards release her and step back.  She meets the General's gaze one last time as he bids her, "Find your way back to me, Zero-one."_

_            She struggles to stay focused as the nausea crests within her, tries to keep her eyes open as they open a second, cleverly concealed doorway and depart.  She stumbles toward it, but trips in the shadows.  It's getting cold.  Her body shudders uncontrollably.  She tries to think._

_            They will come for her.  They cannot come for her.  She must tell them she's alright_..._  She reaches for the volume controls of the transmitter.  Pauses.  Tests her voice.  Nothing.  She convulses on the floor, feels the burn of bile in her throat, and the pain slams into her, sending her rocketing into the White._

**.**

**~End of Chapter 29~**


	31. Chapter 30: Unfinished

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 30: Unfinished**

**.**

            **Visiting hours** are almost over, but Trowa doesn't care.  The hospital staff has stopped trying to make him leave her room.  They don't realize that he has nowhere else to go...  Well, he _could_ go to Quatre's, but that's not _home._

            From the dubious comfort of the room's only chair, he watches her sleep.  A solid hour of physical therapy followed immediately by a dinner of warm broth have worked their magic.  She rests.  So he watches over her.  Offers her this safe place.

            In sleep, she seems much younger.  Less animated.  Less guarded.  He doesn't remember when he'd realized she uses the humor and the arrogance as a shield.  He only recalls accepting it.  Earlier today, he'd let her hide behind her familiar mask.  A mask he too often sees on Duo's face.  A mask that has always concealed great pain.

            He wants to ask.  But he won't.  He wants her to confide.  But she can't.

            Gently, his fingers comb through her hair.  His eyes focus on first one feature, then another: her dark lashes, thick eyebrows, strong nose.  He lingers there, wonders how many times it's been broken and reset.  He thinks he sees slight irregularities, but there are no scars.  His index finger gently traces the line of raised flesh along her cheek and jaw.  Her scar.  Her _only_ scar.  She could have had it repaired.  But she hadn't.  She'd insisted on this one imperfection.  He understands.  A soldier owns neither body nor life.  This scar is her defiance of that.

            But he wonders.  Why _this_ scar?  What history does it keep for her?

            She is a mystery to him.  Even after all the years of companionship and friendship she has given him.  Five and a half years.  Longer if he counts back to the night at The Red Eye.  When she'd seen him standing in the shadows.  When she'd sang to him.  And even longer still if he counts the mission she'd undertaken to restore his past to him.

           She'd entwined herself in his life so smoothly, so easily, that he cannot pinpoint the exact day she became his... home.  True, he'd quit the circus to stay close to Kathy, but he'd stayed on L2 for Yokaze.

            _I sleep where you sleep._

            For a man who has spent his life alone, there are few words that carry more weight.  And since he'd spoken them... he'd _thought_ he could deal with her lifestyle, the missions, the danger.  But when he'd sat there, watching her pull herself toward those cargo bay doors on C555, when he'd been so completely helpless, when he'd been able to do _nothing_...  He can't deal.  Not anymore.

            She tenses.  He watches her eyes shifting beneath her lids.  It's another dream.  His fingers brush over her throat, counting her pulse.  Immediately, he knows this one is worse than the others.  He leans forward and draws a breath to say her name, to call her back...

            And then she's screaming.

            The sound is ripped from her very soul and the pure anguish of it shocks the breath from him.  And then he reacts.  He says her name.  Grasps her shoulders.  Shakes her.

            She does not wake.

            He raises his right hand and swings.  Hard.

            And the sound of his open palm striking her flesh tears an invisible gash in his heart.

            Silence.

            Her lashes flutter open.  She barely glimpses his green eyes before her own palm clamps over her mouth.  There's no time for the wheelchair.  No time to attempt moving her to the room's small bathroom.  They make do with the hand towel that had protected her clean gown from dinner's small spills.

            When her stomach is empty, he throws the soiled cloth in the trash and pulls her into his arms.  She leans.  She breathes.  She rinses her mouth with the cup of water he offers her.  Through it all, not a word.

            His knuckles brush against the side of her face where he'd hit her.  An apology.  She turns toward his neck, brushes her nose against his skin.  An acceptance.

            His eyes slide closed.  This is the first moment they've shared since she'd woken up that hasn't been awkward.  Maybe everything will be all right now.

            Trowa knows she won't talk about the nightmare.  Not with him.  He herds her closer to his warmth.  She sighs.  He feels the brush of her lashes against his throat; her eyes are closed.  She's hiding again.

            Her hands tighten in the fabric of his shirt and he knows: she realizes she can't run forever.  But for now...  Trowa rubs his jaw over her hair and lets her bury her face in his shirt.

**.**

            **Heero watches them** sleep, careful to block the light from the hall.  His gaze travels over the landscape that Duo's muscled, lanky body forms as he curls around his charge.  He studies the unguarded face Duo offers in his sleep.  Remembers the kiss.  And the anger.

            Leaning heavily against the doorframe, Heero marvels at his own stupidity.  How could he have so callously risked this precious friendship?  He's not a little relieved that Duo hasn't brought up the subject.  But that's not all he feels.

            He closes his eyes, amazed at the utter mess he's made.  The weight of his emotions roll heavily in his chest.  It's an ache he has little experience dealing with.

            _What have I done?_

            Jaw tense, he wrestles his confusion and pain back down.  That is not why he's here.  This is not the time to sort these things out.  He has other obligations that must be addressed.  Duo's anger and what Heero feels for him will have to wait.

            Slowly, he draws a silent breath and opens his eyes.  The way Jaspien curls into Duo's warmth reminds him of a kitten he'd seen once upon a time.  Trusting.  Content.  Heero can recall feeling that as well.  One Christmas.  In this same apartment.  With Duo.

            Somehow sensing the intrusion, Jaspien stirs.  Had Heero not wanted to be discovered, he would have retreated into the hall and closed the door.  He remains where he is.  As Jaspien's dark eyes focus on his favorite hero, he grins sleepily.

            Heero doesn't speak, merely gestures for Jaspien to come out into the hall.  Carefully, the little boy untangles himself from the covers and crosses the distance.  Heero gently shuts the door behind him and rewards him with a quick hug.

            "Hey," he says.

            "Hey."  Jaspien rubs his eyes.  "You didn't come in to say 'good-night' last night."

            "I know.  I'm sorry.  How's a 'good morning' now?  Am I forgiven?"

            "Maybe," the boy says, looking speculative.

            "And if I make you pizza for breakfast?"

            Jaspien grins.

            Heero pulls the pizza out of the oven while Jaspien brushes his teeth.  The apartment seems to echo with every tiny noise in the early morning.  Long before Jaspien appears in the doorway, Heero can hear his stocking feet on the carpet in the hall.  He turns and offers a smile and slice of pizza as Jaspien plops into a chair.  For a while, they eat in silence, but Heero has a lot on his mind and Jas seems to detect this as well.

            "Hero?"

            "Yeah?"

            "Whacha thinking?"

            He replies with a half-smile, "I was hoping you could help me with something."

            Jaspien says, "Okay," before tilting his head to the side and taking another bite.

            "It's about The Voice, Jas."

            Jaspien doesn't look at Heero as he slowly chews and swallows.  In a very small voice, he whispers, "What?"

            Heero removes the portable tape recorder from his pocket and places it on the table between them.  "Will you listen to this and tell me if it's him?"

           Across the way, Jaspien shivers but he nods.  Breakfast forgotten, the boy places his hands on either side of his plate, palms down.  He watches intently as Heero carefully presses a button and the tape begins to play.

            _"_..._This station.  This base.  The scientists.  The subjects.  You know why it's all here, don't you?  _..._Yes, it exists for the mission.  And_..._"_

            Heero stops the tape at the pale, drawn look on Jaspien's face.  Eyes closed, the boy forces himself to breathe evenly.  When at last he can look up, he meets Heero's gaze and tells him, "Yes."

            Pocketing the recorder, Heero stands and moves around the table.  As he kneels beside Jaspien's chair, the boy practically throws himself into Heero's arms.  

            "Thank you, Jaspien."  He rubs the boy's back through the over-sized T-shirt.  "Thank you for being brave for me."

            Face buried in Heero's collar, Jaspien says, "Are... are you going to... to look for him?"

            Slowly, he replies, "Is that okay?"

            Jaspien nods.  Then he lifts his face and whispers, "Be careful, Hero.  He's a really bad man."

            "I'll be careful.  I promise."

            "Okay."

            Heero holds onto the boy for a moment longer before forcing himself to make his final request.

**.**

            **"Hey, Yo-meister!"******

            A soft snort returns the exuberant greeting.  "Another day, another Duo," Yokaze replies, dryly.  "How are things at the fort, babe?"

            "Fantastic, peach.  And look who followed me here today."

            Yokaze grins as Jaspien peeks around the corner into her room.  "Hey, Jas-man."

            Duo turns large, pleading violet eyes on Yokaze.  "Can we keep him, huh huh huh, can we, can we?"

            She laughs.  "Well, it looks like you've already fed him, so I suppose we'll have to..."  She grins for Jaspien and receives one in reply.

            "Here, dude," Duo says, pulling up a chair for Jas.  He makes a show of looking around.  "Where's Tro?"

            "He was getting really stinky so I made him go take a bath," she says, wiggling her brows at Jaspien, who giggles softly.

            Duo laughs.  "Trowa?  _Our_ Trowa?"  He shakes his head.  "I can_not_ imagine him anything less than immaculate."

            A funny grin transforms Yokaze's face.  "You should see him in the morning right after he wakes up."  She confides to Jaspien.  "His hair stands right straight up and he's got this little crust of drool on his chin...  Looks like a skunk with a head cold."

            Jaspien laughs.  Duo chokes.

            "So that's Tro in his natural habitat, huh?"

            She arcs her brows smoothly in reply.  "And on tomorrow's episode, boys and girls, we'll learn about the Trowa's unusual nesting habits."

            "I can't wait," Duo tells her, grinning wryly.

            A brief knock on the door interrupts the light moment.  Wufei leans into the room and his uniform looks like it's gotten more sleep than he has.  "Yokaze," he says.

            "Wufei," she replies with a grin.

            He glowers at Duo.  "Maxwell, can I have a moment?"

            "Sure."  With his back to Wufei, Duo makes a funny face for his audience.  Yokaze and Jaspien snort at the man's uncanny ability to impersonate a skunk with a head cold.

            Duo wisely composes himself and joins the mildly agitated agent in the hall.  "What's up, Wu?"

            "Walk with me," he growls, stalking a ways down the corridor, out of range.

            Frowning, Duo begins to wonder if something other than overwork is the cause Wufei's disgruntlement this morning.  They stop beside the nurse's station and Wufei turns to keep an eye on Yokaze's door.  He does _not_ need anymore surprises today.

            He cuts to the chase.  "Have you seen Heero today?"

            Duo shakes his head.  "Naw, man.  Didn't even see him last night.  Does he _ever_ leave the office?"

            Wufei's scowl darkens.  "I wish I could say 'no.'"

            "You wish?" Duo repeats with obvious inquiry.

            "That would imply that he is there now and I would know where he is at this precise moment.  But he's not and I don't."

            Duo blinks.  "Heero's gone?"

            "Apparently.  Unless he left you a note?"

            Duo shakes his head and forces a smile.  "Why would he go and do something like that, Wu?  I'm not his keeper."

            Wufei massages the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger.  "That's just my own wishful thinking talking.  Forget it."

            Laying a hand on his friend's shoulder, Duo tells him.  "Hey, no worries.  Heero can handle himself."

            Biting back a sigh, Wufei looks up at Duo.

            "But... there's something you're not telling me about Heero's sudden absence," Duo guesses shrewdly.

            "Yesterday evening, the forensic department cracked Barton's laptop."

            "Did you...?"

            "Retrieve an audio file for her transmitter?  Yes, we did."

            "So you've identified the guy?"

            Wufei exhales heavily.  "Have I?  No.  Has Heero?"  The significant look the Preventer agent offers is not lost on Duo.

            "Shit," the other man mutters, a hand combing through his long bangs.  "You think Heero's gone all vigilante on you."  At Wufei's confirming silence, Duo mutters something obscene under his breath.  "You've asked the others?"

            "All except Barton.  But I don't hold out much hope."

            Duo offers an apologetic smile.  "I wish I could make your life easier, man."

            Wufei smirks as he heads toward the elevators.  "It's a shame that the one time you offer you can't."

            Duo grins.  "If nothing else, I have an _excellent_ sense of timing."

            With a snort, Wufei steps into the lift and punches the button for the ground floor.

**.**

            **"Are you still sick?"**

            Yokaze shakes her head, listening to Wufei and Duo retreat down the hall.  "No.  I'm better now.  Just a bit wimpy.  That's all."

            "Hero was worried."

            "Yeah.  And I bet you were a little worried about Duo, huh?"

            Jaspien nods.

            "Don't worry.  Duo's way tougher than me.  Besides, the doctors wouldn't have let him visit with me if they thought he'd get sick."

            There's a long moment of silence as Jaspien chews his lip.  Yokaze watches and wonders if he's actually going to say what he wants to.  Then he looks up and blurts, "Did you mean it?"

            "Mean what, Jas?"

            "Duo can keep me?"

            Yokaze smiles.  "Yeah, Jas.  You're stuck with us."  She reaches out and gives his shoulder a squeeze.  "Heero, Duo, and me.  You can't get rid of us now!"

            Instead of looking happy, Jaspien looks worried.

            "What is it, buddy?"

            "Hero's gone."

            "He is?  How come?"

            Jaspien bites his lower lip again.  "He went to go look for The Voice."

            Yokaze is quiet for a moment, filling in all the missing pieces.  Then she tells him, "Don't worry about Heero.  He'll be back."

            The boy shifts in his seat.  "But he got beat when he fought Wufei..."

            "And he got back up, didn't he?"  Yokaze smiles.  "If anyone can kick The Voice's butt, it's Heero.  Trust me."  And when Jaspien looks up, she does her most annoying ninja impersonation.  By the time Duo makes his second entrance of the day, Jaspien is in stitches, a boneless heap of boy on the chair.  In fact, Duo's so busy trying to get Jaspien to calm down and share the joke that he doesn't catch the calculating gleam in Yokaze's dark blue eyes.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 30~**


	32. Chapter 31: Favors

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 31: Favors**

**.**

            **He'd never wanted** to kill or hurt anyone ever again... until now.  In the wake of all that he's learned, Heero struggles to confine his anger to the curling of his fingers against the armrests of his seat.  He ignores the other passengers, glares out the shuttle window at the glowing orb of the Earth looming closer, and waits.

            With nothing capable of distracting him, Heero cannot stop the constant parade of data from swirling through his mind.  Everything that has brought him to this moment, to this mission, presses in on him, feeding his anger, his determination.

            He _will_ protect them.

            His lashes close and Heero forces himself to take several deep, carefully regulated breaths.  He wonders briefly why he hadn't felt this way when he'd found Yokaze on C555... or when he'd watched her struggle to escape... or when she'd been unconscious and ill... or when he'd heard the recording and that voice... or when he'd asked Jaspien for his help...  The last time he'd felt this way, he'd just finished reading _Zero-one_.

            Heero opens his eyes and thinks back to this morning.  He hadn't wanted to ask Jaspien... but he hadn't had a choice, really.  Heero reaches into his jacket pocket and removes the carefully folded drawing.

            It's only a picture.  But it's also so much more.  Heero had forced himself to ask Jaspien to draw The Voice.  Chest tight, Heero gently opens the sheet of paper and gazes upon the rough approximations of himself, armed with a sword, preparing to battle a dark-haired man in a wheelchair.  Heero swallows as he makes himself memorize every detail of the image, of Jaspien's hope.  He hadn't realized just how much Jaspien had come to depend on him.  

            The drawing is carefully settled in his pocket once more.  Heero returns gaze to space and thinks.  Jaspien is counting on him.  How does he know Yokaze doesn't secretly harbor the same feelings?  He remembers the audio recording, recalls her silence, her acquiescence.  He doesn't fully understand why she'd submitted to the injection, why she hadn't resisted the General.  Is his power over her so strong?  So compelling?  Had she believed him when he'd proclaimed the two of them soulmates?

            What had the bastard done to her?

            Heero crosses his arms over his chest.  One thing is sure: Yokaze is not strong enough to face him.  And Heero would never force her to do so.  Especially when it is within his power to save his sister the pain of dealing with this man... no, _monster_.  He understands now what had compelled her to launch an attack on L1 years ago; she'd destroyed his hell, had taken his place, and would have died in his stead.  To set him free.  He can do no less than return the favor.

            With a glance at his watch, he calculates the time to his objective.  The General had been absurdly easy to track.  With Jaspien's drawing in hand and Preventers resources at his disposal, it had taken him less than an hour to locate the man.  The General's shuttle had been one of the last to leave C555.  On Earth, spaceport security cameras had caught him disembarking.  And as soon as Heero had seen the man's photograph, he had remembered: the well groomed, silent man always observing Heero's training from the shadows of the room...  

            The General.

            A very bad man, indeed.

            Heero glances out the window once more at the glowing jewel of the planet shining larger before him.  Down there exists the hunting ground the General has chosen for the final confrontation between himself and his masterpiece.  

            _Zero-one_..._  My masterpiece..._

            Heero hears that voice once again in his ears: that smooth, soothing, inviting murmur.  The voice of a very bad, very _dead_ man.

**.**

            **"Wore yourself out,** did you?" the nurse says as she tucks her patient into bed.

            Yokaze smiles weakly.  "God, all I did was get out of bed on my own and use the loo."  She lifts a shaky arm to wipe at her perspiring brow.

            "Well, it's the first time no one's given you a hand.  Next time will be easier."  The woman continues, "You shouldn't push yourself so hard.  You're already leaps and bounds ahead of your projected recovery schedule."  She pauses in her sermon to check Yokaze's rapidly-beating pulse.  "That's it!  You're to stay in this bed and rest for _at least_ an hour.  No visitors."

            "Okay," Yokaze mumbles in agreement, eyelids drooping.  Her breaths lengthen and settle into a steady rhythm even before the door has shut behind the nurse's retreating form.  For a long moment, everything is silent.  Slowly, Yokaze opens her eyes to the empty room.  Now that she's alone it's time to get something accomplished.  She grins.  Nurses are so easy to fool.  Thank whatever gods there may be for bio rhythm training.

            Easily, she reaches for the telephone on the nightstand.  Her first call goes through quickly but rather than hanging up at its conclusion, she dials a more familiar set of numbers.  On the third ring, Yokaze's rewarded with Bisho's voice.

            "Hello?"

            "Hey, there.  Guess who."

            "Yokaze!?  Are you okay?  Is everything—"

            Yokaze laughs quietly.  "Fine.  Everything is fine.  I am fine.  The bloody hospital food is fine."

            "...Oh."  Pause.  "So, I suppose you'd like to talk to Trowa?"

            "Am I that obvious?"

            Bisho laughs.  "Hold on a minute while I scare the everloving crap out of your boyfriend.  I think he might still be in the shower."

            Yokaze listens as Bisho covers the receiver with her hand to muffle her shout: "Trowa!  It's Yokaze!"

            The sound of a door slamming open echoes on the line.  "How was that?" Bisho whispers into the phone.

            "Brilliant," Yokaze tells her, biting her lip to keep from laughing as the sound of hurried, approaching footsteps grows louder.  Then she listens to pure, serious silence during which she imagines Bisho attempting to meet Trowa's gaze without cracking a grin.  A moment later, the phone changes hands.

            "Yokaze?"

            From the tone of his voice, she can guess at his expression.  Bisho_ had_ scared the everloving crap out of him.  She says, "Hello, hot stuff."

            "Are you all right?"

            "Yes, yes.  I'm fine."

            "Where are you?"

           She almost laughs.  "At the hospital, in my bed, on my best behavior.  Where else would I be?" she asks innocently... _too_ innocently.  She can hear his glare.

            "Do you really expect me to answer that?"

            "No, not really.  And stop glaring at me."

            The replying silence is softer, somehow; she knows he's gotten rid of the glare.  She continues, "Has Wufei spoken to you this morning?"

            "No.  Will he?"

            "I assume so since he's looking for Heero."

            "Heero's missing?"

            "Yup."  Yokaze draws a fortifying breath.  "I need you to pack me a change of clothes and my laptop and meet me at the spaceport—"

            Trowa interjects, "Yokaze—"

            She forges onward, "—I've already booked our tickets."

            Silence.  She listens as he absorbs her meaning.  His voice is soft and tentative: "Yokaze?"

            Her smile is nervous but hopeful.  "Come with me?"

            She can hear all of his objections in the heartbeat it takes for him to decide: she's still recovering; her immune system is still weak; Heero can handle himself.  Trowa says, "When?"

            She is both relieved and dismayed.  For a long time, she has wanted to share this part of her life—the missions—with him.  But at the same time, she is pulling him back into the world he fought so hard to change.  He deserves better.  He deserves a normal life.  She knows she's being selfish.  She can't help it.  She tells herself this is the last time.

            "Eleven-forty.  Can you make it in time?"

            He counters and she thinks she hears a small smile in his voice.  "Can you check yourself out of the hospital in time?"

            She snorts.  "Of course not.  See you there."

**.**

            **Jaspien studies** Duo's profile as he drives.  Duo is quiet, too quiet.  And he looks upset.  He glares at the traffic in front of them.  His fingers are curled completely around the steering wheel.

            "Duo?" Jaspien asks.

            The man beside him jerks and tries to smile.  "What, Jas?"

            Jaspien isn't fooled.  "What's the matter?"

            Duo's gaze flickers in Jaspien's direction.  He can't hide his guilty expression.  "You caught me, huh?"

            "Yeah."

            Duo sighs.  "I'm just thinking about Heero."

            Jaspien nods.  "I'm worried, too."

            With a frown, Duo replies, "What?  Jaspien, do you know where Heero is?"

            Again, the boy nods.  "He's gone to fight The Voice," he nearly whispers.

            "The Voice?" Duo echoes.

            "A bad man," Jaspien tells him.  He watches the cars and buildings scroll past them.  He can sense Duo watching him.  "The bad man who used to tell me that to do.  Inside my head."

            Duo takes a breath.  _Calm, be calm._  "Jaspien, when did Heero tell you he was going to look for The Voice?"

            "This morning.  You were sleeping."

            Duo's hands tighten around the steering wheel until his knuckles are white.  "Jas...  I need to know exactly what happened this morning."

**.**

            **"What do you mean** Barton's not there?" Wufei growls.

            "Dude, _chill_," Bisho replies.  "He probably went to visit Yokaze again."

            Running a hand through his hair, he grumbles, "Fine.  I'll try there.  If you see him, tell him to call me."  Wufei disconnects before Duo's little sister starts getting snarky with him for being in such a shitty mood.  Dividing his glare between the road and his cell phone, he begins keying in a second number when an in-coming call interrupts him.

            "Chang," he barks by way of greeting.

            "Wufei.  It's Duo.  I've just had a talk with Jaspien.  Heero spoke to him this morning before he took off."

            Wufei executes a one-handed right turn.  "And?"

            "And Heero asked him to listen to a recording.  Jaspien identified it as the man who supervised his training and drew Heero a picture of the guy."

            For a moment, Wufei simply blinks.  Jaspien had identified the voice on the audio recording?  Jaspien is a _witness?_

              Duo says without much hope, "Dude, please tell me Heero hasn't done what I think he's done."

            And since Wufei can't tell Duo any such thing, he says nothing.  His silence is enough.  Quickly, Wufei calculates the best way to change his destination from HQ to Quatre's.  "Are you at Winner's apartment?"

            "Nearly."

            "I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes."  Wufei disconnects, feeling like for the first time today something might actually be going in his favor.  

            On the passenger seat, his phone rings again.  Expecting to hear Trowa's voice, imagine his surprise upon being greeted by a concerned nurse informing him of Yokaze's disappearance.

            The car screeches to a halt at a red light and his forehead drops to the steering wheel.  Somehow he manages to assure the woman that he'll get right on it while trying to remember where Taki stores her sketches of medieval instruments of torture.

            And some people say he's not good at multi-tasking.

            He almost laughs.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 31~**


	33. Chapter 32: The Masterpiece

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 32: The Masterpiece**

**.**

            **Taki inhales deeply** with the grin of a true hedonist.  Ah, the tempting aroma of fresh take-out...

            She pauses in the corridor of the L4 Preventers offices and reconsiders her choice of wording.  She eyes the plain, white bag cradled in her arms.  _Fresh_ take-out?  Isn't that an oxymoron?  Okay, _recently liberated_ take-out.  She nods, satisfied with that revised description.

            Grin restored, she continues her saunter down the hall and nudges a seemingly random door open with her hip.  She rocks into the room, dumps the bag on the immaculate desk, and plops into Wufei's chair.  She leans back and spins around, taking in the windowless room.  Wufei's so lucky to have a woman who brings him lunch on a whim.

             And speaking of luck and whims...

            Taki is wearing a feral grin when the chair grinds to a halt in front of Wufei's phone.  She leans forward and presses the voice mail record button.

            "You have reached the office of Agent Sex~xay Beast.  This is his keeper speaking.  If you'd like to rent him, please leave your name and a credit card number."  She chuckles with evil satisfaction as the message finishes recording with a happy chirp.

            And not a moment too soon.  On the desk, the phone purrs to life.  Swiveling the chair back and forth, energy barely contained, she stares at the phone waits for the voice mail to kick on.  Taki listens to the new recording with tears of mirth in her eyes.  Then holds her breath waiting for the caller to leave a message... if he dares.

            "Uhm...  Agent Chang?  This is spaceport security.  We've located Heero Yuy, so to speak.  He passed through the security checkpoint at seven o'clock this morning.  We're not able to confirm his destination; it appears he didn't use the name you gave us.  It's going to take some time to confirm the identity of each of the passengers that flew out today.  Please contact me if you have any new information that might assist the search."

            Taki stares at the machine, practical joke forgotten.  She is silent long after the man stops speaking and the message light begins to blink.  So, Heero is missing...

            She blinks and straightens in Wufei's chair as something occurs to her: Does Yokaze know?  Taki scoops up the phone and dials her friend's hospital room number.  It goes unanswered.  She drums her fingers on the desktop as she waits to be transferred to the nurse's station.

            "St. Calvin's Hospital..."

            Taki only listens with half an ear to the woman's voice.  "Hi, yeah.  I'm trying to contact Yokaze Yuy in room 505.  No one's answering her phone."

            "Ah, yes."  Uncomfortable pause.  "Ms. Yuy is currently unaccounted for."

            "I see.  Thank you."  Taki re-cradles the receiver and turns toward the computer screen with a pensive expression.  _Looks like Yokaze found out Heero's missing._  As she boots up the pc, she smirks ruefully.  Taki shakes her head.  Poor Wufei.  Although he really should have expected it.        

            Finally, the pc is on-line.  Taki grins and stretches her fingers.  There has yet to be a Yokaze hunt that she's not been part of.  She waggles her fingertips above the keys then taps out a number.  She still grinning when the call connects and an attractive blond man answers her summons.

            "Taki?"

            She leans her chin on her palm and smiles.  "Hey, Andrew.  How's it going?"

            He tenses and reluctantly replies, "... Fine..."

            She tries not to look too feral.  "I was just wondering...  You're not still keeping tabs on our mutual friend, are you?"

            Andrew holds up both hands in a gesture of defense.  "I haven't tracked her since I got served with that restraining order last year, Taki."

            She quirks an eyebrow at him and studies a slightly blurred, poster-sized photo behind him.  "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that a satellite image of Yokaze during her tour on Earth? _ Two months ago?!"_

            He squirms.  "Er...  What makes you think that?"

            She lifts a single eyebrow.  "The date stamped on the corner?" she suggests.

            "Well, I..."

            Taki pounces, "Just give me what I want and I won't tell her brother about your little hobby."

            "Her brother... he's that guy..."

            "The homicidal, spandex-wearing, ex-gundam pilot maniac," she supplies helpfully.

            "Er, right."  He turns slightly away from her.  "I, ah, might have something."

            "What kind of 'something'?"

            "I was, uh, concerned about her so, I've, er, been keeping an eye on her at the hospital.  One of the security cameras offers a partial view of her room through the hall window."  His gaze shifts nervously to Taki.  "She made a couple of calls this morning.  I can send you the video file."

            "Audio?" she presses.

            He shakes his head.  "No, but I, ah...  I've got a transcript of what I think she might have said."

            "You read her lips?" Taki guesses, knowing she shouldn't be this surprised by the depths of his obsession.

            A look of utter bliss transforms his face.  "And what lips they are..."

            "Okay, okay.  Send me the files before your drool shorts out the electronics."

            A sheepish grin is his response.  He taps out a few commands on the computer console.  "There.  Done.  And... and Taki?"

            Busy downloading Andrew's presents, she says only, "Hm?"

            "You... you won't tell... _that_ guy, will you?"

            She grins.  "Not a word, Andrew."

            "And Taki?"

            "What?"

            "Whoever 'hot stuff' is... he's one lucky guy."

            Taki spares a glance at Andrew.

            His smile is a little sad.  "Enjoy the vid and all.  Later, Taki."

            She continues staring at the blank comm. window until the computer beeps, alerting her to the text file's completed download.  Lunch forgotten, she scans the page.  She runs the video.  Yokaze does indeed say 'hot stuff.'  Taki pauses the video and stares at the computer screen, in shock.  Who the hell is _hot stuff?_

            She's dying to give Yokaze the third degree about that call, but with a sinking feeling realizes she won't be able to come right out and ask.  Not unless she wants to explain where she got the information and Taki is _not_ about to reveal her source.  So, she'll just have to find another way.

            But first, she's got to _find_ her.  Taki scans the transcript and notes Yokaze's shuttle reservation for eleven-forty.  Quickly, she logs onto the spaceport web site and checks the flight schedule.  As the destination pops up on the screen, Taki smirks.  She doubts anyone else has gotten this far in the search for Yokaze.  

            She taps her nails against the desk.  All she has to decide now is whether or not to share her progress with Wufei...

**.**

            **Flawless.******

            Trowa scans the data before him then glances sideways at his partner.  His hands pause above the keyboard as her head lolls against his shoulder, her breaths slow and even.  Despite her assurances, she's still exhausted from her illness.  But then, she's entitled.  Sneaking out of a hospital, rushing to the spaceport, and taking a flight to Earth—all in the same day—would tax anyone.

            He draws a breath and finishes reviewing the file before him.  He's not a little appreciative of her powers of strategy.  As he reads, he considers her ability to see the game a half dozen moves from now.  She predicts the actions of her target and her allies with equal amounts of detail and precision.  No wonder Trowa's never won a game of chess with her for an opponent.

            Their mission is perfect.

            All that is left is his part.  And that will be promptly accomplished once the shuttle has landed and Trowa can utilize the laptop's internal modem to execute a few necessary hacks.  After that, they will acquire the target.

            Together.

            He's not sure why she's doing this; why she has asked him to be physically by her side for this operation.  He's sure that her recent illness has something to do with it... but how much?  After she's fully recovered will she resort to researching, planning, and executing her missions alone?

            He hopes not.

            He wants to save the day with her.

            For as many days as they have.

            Gently, he turns his face toward her, brushing his jaw against her hair.  He knows he should have made more of a protest; he should have tried to convince her to stay in the hospital.  But he knows he couldn't have stopped her.  Not really.  Not if he ever wanted to be her friend again.  And if it had been Kathy down there confronting _his_ past...  Trowa is very aware that he would do everything in his power to intercept her.

            So, yes, he _should_ have tried to stop Yokaze.  But, on the other hand, he wouldn't trade this moment—the darkness swirling past as the shuttle engines hum and her warmth is solid against him—for anything.

            Gradually, he turns back to the computer in front of him and closes down the file.  Everything is ready.  He checks the pc's clock display.  It's still a good eight hours before they arrive.  And Yokaze is still asleep.

            The desktop fills the screen once more.  His gaze is drawn to the enigmatic file folder floating in virtual space: _Zero-one._   He'd noticed it when she'd booted up the system.  She hadn't offered and he hadn't asked.

            The mouse hovers over the icon.  His fingertips hesitate over the touch pad.  So easily, he could open this document, even if she'd had the foresight to password protect it.  From the title, he guesses the information enclosed details her training and possibly all of the missions she'd undertaken during and since.  It could be that her entire life is shut away in this sub-directory.  Everything he wants to know but hasn't asked...

            He sighs.  He hasn't asked.

            Perhaps he should.

            Reluctantly, he redirects the mouse and shuts down the computer.  Head still pillowed against his shoulder, Yokaze's lashes flutter closed.

**.**

            **Heero checks** his watch and quickly returns his gaze to the building across the street.  The Palace Hotel.  He'd spent all day ensconced in this small coffee shop behind his laptop.  After confirming this as the General's destination, he'd hacked into the hotel's security system and accessed the lobby cameras.

            After watching the General sign in, Heero had turned his attention to the reservations database.  The bastard had booked the penthouse suite.  So Heero had studied the hotel's security system and exits.  He'd brought up the blueprints for the entire structure.  There is now nothing about that building that he doesn't know.

            And it had been so incredibly easy.

            Too easy.

            He glares at the impressive structure across the way, noting lights glowing from the top-most windows.  He'd made no attempt to cover his tracks.  The son of a bitch must really be serious about wanting Yokaze to kill him.

            With that thought, the memory of the man's fevered confessions floods Heero's ears.  _That voice_...  Heero forces his body to suppress the involuntary shudder.  How many years had Yokaze listened to that voice?  Been assaulted by that twisted logic?  And how had she survived with her sanity?

            He suddenly remembers the call she'd made to him the morning before she'd returned from NW's tour.  She hadn't been able to sleep.  She'd asked him if he was still haunted by the organization, too.  His hands fist as he recalls her quiet resignation...  She'd accepted the idea that she would never be free of the nightmares.

            All of that ends tonight.

            Deliberately, Heero turns back to his laptop and confirms his Internet connection.

            It's time to make a reservation of his own.

**.**

            **The sunset is beautiful.**

            And he wonders...  Is this the last dusk he will ever see?

            His body tingles with anticipation.

            She is coming.

            For him.

            He smiles.

           The General leans toward the view the penthouse windows offer and waits.  She must have realized the truth by now.  There can be no other for her.  They are meant to be together.  And when she takes his life... it will be perfect... masterful... exquisite.  The bonds that have connected them since her induction into the organization will be strengthened such that they will become one.

            Oh, he will die.  And she will live.  But she will be _his._  For the rest of her existence.  With every day that passes, every breath she draws, she will remember him... and she will ache for the creator she surpassed.

            The poetry of it all makes him shiver:  The creation becomes greater than the creator.  And the nature of the creation is such that it is driven to destroy the very thing that gave birth to it, understands it.  It's tragedy worthy of a true artist.

            If there is anything he can say about his life it is this: he has lived an artist's life.

            Creation for destruction.

            Creation for perfection.

            And like every undertaking, this one must also have an end.  

            Soon.

            And if she doesn't come...  His men already have their orders.  The targets have been established.  The means to carry out the mission have already been provided.  All that is needed is one phone call... from him.  But he doubts she will make him resort to such crude methods of proving his point.  She is smart.  She is strong.  She will be here. 

            He remains there, gazing out across the city.  He watches the lights twinkle on and one-by-one reach toward the darkening horizon.

            It is well past midnight when a knock upon the suite door summons the General from his dark musings.  He smiles, glad that he hadn't bothered to cover his tracks.  He'd been hiding from her for years.  He's tired of it.  He'd always known that she would come to him if she'd known he were still alive.

            And here she is.

            The General doesn't bother to maneuver to the door.  He uses the automated voice commands to unlock the portal.  With a simple "Enter" the ultimate game begins.

**.**

            **Yokaze says nothing.**  A simple glance at the ambulance speedometer and Trowa pushes the bulky vehicle up to sixty miles and hour on the downtown streets.  The siren is nearly deafening, but at this hour of night she doubts many people will hear it.  Traffic is minimal.

            She checks her watch.  She checks her laptop.  Still, Heero hasn't logged back on-line.  That can mean one of two things.  Either he'd shut his computer off and gotten some sleep... _or_ he's closing in on the target.

            She hopes it's the former, but knows how unlikely that is.

            Glimpsing the Palace Hotel ahead, she takes a fortifying breath.  She has to stop him.  Whatever it takes, she has to stop him from killing again.  This is her monster.  

_            Hers._

**.**

            **The General listens** to the almost-sounds of footsteps in the plush carpeting.  He doesn't turn around.  Not yet.  He savors this moment.  This victory.

            She is his.

            "I knew you'd make it," he says softly.  "I knew you wouldn't deny me... deny us."

            The silence that answers him is familiar.

            "I saw it in your eyes that you understood.  That you were ready to merge your soul with mine.  I saw how hungry you were for it.  How you had ached for it without even realizing it.  How thirsty you were to come home.  To me."

            He smiles.  "You and I, look at what we've created together.  I look back on it in awe.  I look on _you_ in awe.  I'd never had faith in anything... until you came to me."

            His voice lowers as he remembers, "You were perfect.  Even untrained and ignorant, I could see the fire in you.  Strength is forged from flames, you know.

            "You were my strength.  Every failure I experienced, I endured because of you.  You are unique.  Beautiful.  You have blessed me with you existence."

           He pauses and closes his eyes.  It is time.  With practiced ease, he turns his chair to face the intruder.  "Bless us now, Zero-one," he entreats.

            And opens his eyes.

            His gaze moves beyond the barrel of the gun to the man behind it.  His expression morphs into one of fierce disgust.  He hisses, "Heero Yuy."

            Heero's cold, cobalt eyes glare down.  He says softly, icily, "I'd say it's a pleasure, but I haven't pulled the trigger yet."

            The corner of the General's mouth kicks upward in a sarcastic grin.  "Yes, as J's little pet you would enjoy denying Zero-one and I this... completion."

            "J has nothing to do with this," Heero assures him.  "_Yokaze_ is my sister.  I couldn't save her from you, couldn't stop you from violating her with your ideals of _perfection_, but I can save her from _this._"

            Leaning back in his chair, the General regards the frigid anger emanating from his uninvited opponent.  "Yes, I can imagine how you must feel.  _Jealous_ of her connection with me.  _Unable_ to give her what she requires."  He grins.  "Your problem, Heero Yuy, is not that you can't understand your sister's needs.  Your problem is that you can do nothing to satisfy them."

            Heero's eyes narrow.  "The only problem here is _you._"

            Reading the young man's imminent, deadly intent, the General invites him, "Go ahead and kill me then, Heero.  She'll never forgive you for it, so by all means go right ahead.  Let me die knowing she'll never turn to you again."

            Heero hesitates, remembering her eerie, submissive silence when she'd confronted this man.

            Leering, the General assures him.  "She _is_ mine.  If you let me live, she is mine.  If you let her kill me, she is mine.  If you kill me, she is mine.  You cannot win, Heero."

            "Maybe not," he concedes and takes careful aim.

**.**

           **"Hey!**  We need to get up to the penthouse!  NOW!" Yokaze yells, running for the elevators with Trowa beside her.

            The night-duty manager blinks at them from behind the desk, taking in their paramedics' uniforms and the kit of emergency medical supplies between them.

            She continues, "We've got a possible heart-attack victim up there!"  Trowa punches the button to call forth the elevator and Yokaze turns back to the clerk.  "Sometime this bloody _year,_ pal!"

            The man jumps as if an electric current had just passed through him and scrambles for the spare key.  He rushes into the elevator and receives a glare from both paramedics for taking so long.  The clerk looks from one to the other.  The man stands calmly, staring ahead.  The woman is speaking into a radio clipped to her collar.  He can't understand the codes, but from the tone of her voice it's urgently important.

            The doors slide open on the top floor and the manager fumbles with the key.  Bent over the lock, he doesn't see the quick look pass between the EMTs.  He doesn't even see the blow coming.  One breath he's trying to sort out the top of the key card from the bottom and the next he's face-down against the carpet.

            Yokaze silently tries the door.  It's already unlocked.  Silently, she slips into the room, Trowa at her heels.  At first glance, the place is empty.  But as the two of them hold their breaths, they hear it.

            "Go ahead and kill me then, Heero.  She'll never forgive you for it, so by all means go right ahead.  Let me die knowing she'll never turn to you again."

            A doubt-filled pause follows.  Yokaze creeps along the wall as quickly as she dares, closing in on them.  Heero says nothing, but the General has plenty to tell him.

            "She _is_ mine.  If you let me live, she is mine.  If you let her kill me, she is mine.  If you kill me, she is mine.  You cannot win, Heero."

            And then Yokaze hears her brother's voice.  She leans around the corner and sees them: the General looking smugly up at the man holding a gun not an arm's length from his victim's head.  Very quietly—very finally—Heero tells him, "Maybe not."

            Yokaze leaps for his gun arm, inserting herself between her brother and source of her nightmares.  The gunshot is silent but the bullet buries itself in the wall with a loud _pop!_  For a minute, everyone is perfectly still.

            Heero stares at his sister in disbelief.  "Yokaze?  What are you—"

            She glares at him but releases his arm.  He watches as she pulls something from her pocket and tears the paper backing from it.  She moves away from him.  Taking a good look at the General, she growls, _"He is mine."_

            The General smiles up at her as she reaches for him.  Behind her, a small scuffle takes place as Heero attempts to stop her but Trowa holds him back.  The General purrs, "This is really it, love?"

            She smiles.  "The end."

            He chuckles.  "You mean the beginning."

            He makes no move to defend himself as her fingers move to the buttons of his shirt and force the fabric to part.  And then her palm slams down over his heart.  The sound of their flesh connecting seems to echo; even the plush carpet and silk walls cannot absorb the sound.

            "No," she whispers, contradicting him.  "This is the end."

            The General blinks at her then looks down to where her fingers are massaging his chest... and something else... something adhered to his skin.  He shakes his head, trying to clear his sudden confusion.  But no... not confusion...  His vision begins to go gray at the edges.  What had she done?  Poisoned him?

            Perhaps he'd spoken that last thought aloud for she moves her hand in reply, allowing him to see her weapon of choice.  He stares, mute and uncomprehending, at the bandage on his skin.  The _medicated_ bandage.  His sudden weakness makes sense to him as the sedative _really _goes to work.

            He uses the last of his strength to look up at her.  "No..." he whispers.  "I... must... know..."

            The face of his creation—his enemy—is the last thing he sees before it all fades away.

**.**

**~End of Chapter 32~**


	34. Chapter 33: Honesty

**Mission**** One**

**Chapter 33: Honesty**

**.**

            **Wufei pauses** on the threshold of the break room.  He's well aware of things beings rather... strange around here lately, but this tops them all.  He blinks as his co-workers, male and female alike, swarm Taki, credit cards held aloft.  Does he really want to know?  Perhaps, not.  But, on the other hand, he will probably seriously regret not investigating.

            "What is going on in here?" he growls and the agents, secretaries, and maintenance workers scatter.  Wufei's eyes narrow on Taki who stands in the center of the room, her expression an equal mix of relief and shock.  "Taki?" he demands, instantly suspicious despite her apparent innocence.  He's known her too long to categorize any instance of her being at the center of attention as harmless.

            "Dude," she tells him, blinking.  "You work with some seriously weird people.  Psych exams aren't exactly a high priority around here, are they?"  

            "What are you doing here?"

            She holds up a brown paper sack.  "Got the munchies, pookie?"

            He glares at her.  "You've been bringing me lunch for the last two days, Taki."

            "Yes, I have," she confirms.

            "Why?"

            She looks offended.  "I can't do something nice for my sweetums?"

            He gives her a long look.  She's not fooling him in the slightest and he makes sure that she knows it.  He grunts and checks his watch.  "I have a vid conference in ten minutes."

            "O~kay," she sings, "don't expect me to save you any chili cheese fries."

            He makes a face and heads for his office.  As he approaches his desk, he frowns at the blinking message light.  Wufei presses the playback button and listens to no less than twelve hang-ups.  Until a few days ago, he'd never gotten more than four or five messages a day and the callers had actually _had _something to say.  But twelve calls?  And _no _messages?  What the hell is going on around here?  

            He shakes his head and gathers all of the data he intends to transfer to the Preventers headquarters he's contacting on Earth.  The call comes through and the exchange is brief.  Then, just before he's ready to transfer the data he's complied on Heero Yuy, Yokaze Yuy, and Trowa Barton, his phone rings.  With a frown, he excuses himself from the conference and scoops up the receiver.

            "I'm sorry, sir," the office switchboard operator says, "I know you asked not to be disturbed, but I've a call for you from a Mr. Barton."

            "Put him through."  Wufei waits for the line to connect then barks, "Where the hell are you, Barton?"

            "Good afternoon, Wufei.  So nice to finally get through to you."

            "Barton..."

            "Yokaze and I are on our way back to L4."

            "Did you find Heero?"

            "Yes."

            "And?"

            "And you'll just have to talk to Yokaze about it when she gets there."

            "Barton, I'm in the middle of a vid conference briefing the local authorities on your description.  You'd be wise to quit being a pain in the ass and—"

            Trowa laughs.  "Oh, I don't know...  I think you've got bigger problems than me at the moment."

            "Like what?"

            "Well, if I were you, I'd be checking my voice mail recording."

            _Click._

            Wufei frowns at the phone.  He hesitates before turning back to the conference.  Trowa's suggestion is just going to have to wait.  He transfers their descriptions and passes along the information Trowa had just given him.  When, finally, the comm. window goes blank, he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and dials his office phone number.  After four rings, the voice mail message clicks on.

**.**

            **Yokaze slides onto** the bench beside her brother and throws an arm across the back.  He glances at her and growls, "You should be resting."

            She grins.  "No worries.  Trowa's calling off the hounds and arranging transportation back to my hospital bed as we speak."

            For a long moment, they study the lush park before them.  And then she tells him, "Thank you, Heero."

            _Thank you for trying to protect me, for wanting to save me this pain, for caring._  He nods.  "One for one," he replies with a small grin.

            "Yeah," she agrees.

            Silence descends once more and they simply sit.  And then Heero draws a breath and tells her what she probably already knows, "I have to go away for a while."

            With a nod, she says, "Okay."

            The sounds of the Earth—the wind in the trees, the birds arcing through the sky, the trickle of the stream—soak into the pair on the bench.

            Not looking away from the extraordinary view before them, Yokaze says, "You know he'll take it the wrong way.  Both of them will."

            Heero's mouth twists into a wry grin as he produces a plain, white envelope from within one of his jacket's many pockets.  He doesn't have to ask which 'he' she's talking about.  There's only one that matters.  Only one who deserves an explanation.  And he, in turn, will be able to help Jaspien understand.  "You know us so well."

            "Lucky you," she counters with a kind grin.

            Heero stares at her for a moment, remembering.  _For luck_..._  For us..._  He hands her the envelope and leans back against the bench.  "Yeah.  Lucky."

            That thought gives birth to another and after a pause Heero is wondering at how _un_lucky Yokaze's life has been.  Wonders at the supremely sick twist of fate that had landed her in the General's path.

            He says, "Yo?"

            "Yeah?"

            "Are you sorry?"  He looks at her.  "About the General?"

            She sighs and gazes up at the sky.  "Yeah.  I am.  I don't remember our dad.  So, in a way, I guess the General took his place.  For everything he took away, he also believed in me.  For a long time, I was too busy hating him to see that.  He pushed me to be a stronger person.  For all the wrong reasons, of course.  But still... it was something."

            Heero observes her for a moment, thinking that no human relationship is purely good or bad, but a strange mix that complicates the hell out of life.  He says, "I'm sorry, Yo."

            She rolls her head toward him and smiles.  "It's all good, bro.  I'm ready to move on."  She leans into him and he wraps and arm around her waist.  "I've got plenty to look forward to," she assures him.

            He rests his cheek against her hair and just breathes.

            "It's going to be all right," she tells him.

            He smiles.  Although he hadn't told her what is on his mind, she senses its presence nonetheless.  "You always know the right things to say."

            "That's what older sisters are for."

            "I thought they were for annoying their little brothers until said brother's ass twitches."

            She snorts.  "Oh, yeah.  That, too."  She grins fondly.  "And man have I gotten some serious twitchage out of your ass."

            He doesn't deny it.

            They remain thus, counting each other's heartbeats until a motion along the path draws Heero's attention.  Softly, he says her name.

            She nods.  Trowa has arrived.  "Time to go?"

            "Yeah."  His arm tightens around her and hers around him.

            "Take care of yourself," she mumbles into his chest.

            He leans away and, meeting her gaze, he trails the tip of his forefinger along the line of her scar.  "I'll see you later."

            She smiles for him as he stands.  His fingers whisper along her shoulder and arm until their hands clasp, briefly.  She does not watch him walk away.  Nor does she watch the brief exchange she knows he's having with Trowa.  She gazes out at the park and turns the envelope over between her fingers before carefully sliding it into one of her coat's interior pockets.  After a time, Trowa's shadow falls across the bench and he sits down beside her.

            "What time is the shuttle?" she asks.

            "We have a while yet."

            She nods and then, as a thought occurs to her, she grins.  "So where was Wufei?"

            Trowa's lips curve into a small smile.  "In a vid-conference, briefing the local Preventers here on our descriptions and possible objectives."

            She chuckles.  "Poor Wufei.  Just a step behind."

            "You should let him catch you some day, just to soothe the guy's ego."

            Yokaze laughs.  "Yeah, it can't be easy living with Taki."  And then her humor abruptly dissipates.  "I'm sorry."

            "For what?"

            "The mess.  The missions.  I..."  She can't look at him as she forces herself to say this next part.  She doesn't want him to see what this offer is costing her.  "I don't _have_ to do this anymore.  I can stop—"

            Gently, he lays his fingers over her mouth.  The contact draws her gaze before she can shield her emotions from him.  He tells her, "Don't, Yokaze.  You need to do this."

            She blinks at him.

            Slowly, his fingers slide from her face.  "You need to know that all of the pain your training caused wasn't in vain.  You need to know that despite what their intentions were for you, you have the ultimate say in when and how you use that training."

            "How long have you known?" she inquires, not having expected him to understand so completely.

            His smile is a little sad.  "You're not the only one who feels that way."  He looks down and requests, "Just let me help."

            Yokaze holds her breath.  Is he asking...?  She must be sure.  "What is it you want, Triton?"

            He meets her gaze and tells her, "To be your partner."

            She looks away.  "You know how I live.  My life is hardly stable.  A mission can come up at any time, last for any duration..."  She sighs.  "You've lived that life before.  You deserve... more than that."

            He watches her for a moment.  "I _have_ lived that life before."  He reaches for her hand and threads his fingers between hers.  "So I know what I'm getting myself into."

            "Are you sure?"

            Trowa offers her his expression, unguarded and sincere.  "Yes."

            She stares at him.  She has no other arguments with which to dissuade him… not that she honestly wants to.  "Okay."

**.**

            **"That's it?" **Wufei demands, incredulous.

            Yokaze grins ruefully up from the hospital bed at her audience.  "Yeah, that's it."

            Wufei resists the urge to sigh with exasperation.  "So Heero tailed the wrong man?"

            She nods.  "Yup."

            "And then you came back?"

            She nods again.

            He glowers at her, still in a pissy mood from discovering Taki's little 'joke' yesterday.  He's still debating on if he should tell her he found out, or simply prepare a payback...   _Payback,_ he decides. _ Definitely payback._  "If I find out that any—and I mean _any­—_part of your story is fictitious—"

            Yokaze regards him calmly.  "Look at me, Wu.  The guy got away.  From Heero _and_ me."  She shrugs.  "It shits.  I know."

            He glares at her, knowing that there's a hell of a lot more to it than what she's told him.  But, considering the fact that Taki, Quatre, Bisho, Duo, Jaspien, and Trowa are also in attendance, he doubts he'll get more out of her.  But if there's one thing Wufei Chang knows how to do, it's bide his time.  Reluctantly, he nods.  "I'll send someone over later to get your statement."

            "Am I forgiven?" she asks with a sheepish expression.

            Against his will, Wufei feels the corner of his mouth twitch into an almost-smile.  "I'll think about it."

            "Good enough for me," she declares.  "So... what's new, guys?"

            Bisho leans forward and grins wickedly, "I have _finally_ convinced Quatre to go on an actual date with me."

            Quatre blushes.

            Duo looks amused. 

            Trowa hides a grin and offers to shake Bisho's hand.

            Yokaze chokes out a "congratulations."

            Wufei arcs a brow.

            Taki gapes.  "When the bloody ever-goat-loving hell did _this_ happen?"

            Duo attempts to beat back his amusement.  "Oh, yeah.  You and Wuffers were late to that breakfast."

            As Taki turns her formidable glare on her mate, Wufei growls, drolly, "Thanks, Maxwell."

            "No problem."

            With a grin, Yokaze addresses their quietest member.  "What about you Jas?  What have you been up to?"

            He sidles up to the edge of her bed and pulls a carefully wrapped square of something edible and homemade from his pocket.  "I made you some brownies yesterday," he tells her.

            "Thanks, Jas.  These look really good."

            On the other side of the bed, Wufei glares at Taki.  "You told me _you_ made those," he accuses.

            She fidgets.  "I _helped._  Didn't I, Jas?"

            The boy raises a brow at her in blatant disbelief.

            "Some friend you are," she grumbles.

            "How's the project at Duo's garage coming?" Yokaze inquires with excellent timing.

            Taki waves a hand in a dismissive gesture.  "I've changed my mind."

            Wufei, completely unsurprised by this, rolls his eyes.

            Duo stares at her, aghast.  "But you must have put a hundred hours into the thing!"

            "Yeah," she agrees.  "Good thing I decided I hated it before I finished it, huh?"

            And since no one seems to know what to say to that, no one says anything at all.  Taki doesn't seem to mind.

            "But you should see these new sketches I've done, Yo."  She rummages about in her ever-present backpack for the correlating journal.  "Now _this_ is the real deal...  If I can friggin' _find it_..."

            Duo sends a sympathetic look at Wufei over Taki's head.  Expression perfectly flat, Wufei mouths, _You__ have no idea._  And then, with no small amount of fervor, thinks, _Thank God._

            He watches and listens as Yokaze chats with Quatre, reassures Jaspien, and evades Taki's probing questions.  Idly, he wonders if he should be offering Heero's sister a job... but no.  With the Preventers' resources at her disposal, she'd be ruling the Earth Sphere before lunch.  Still, Wufei notes, she's only human.  He takes in her pallor and slightly glazed eyes.  _She needs to get some quality rest,_ he thinks moments before Trowa quietly suggests that Yokaze be allowed to take a nap.

            Slowly, everyone files out.  Quatre, Bisho, Jaspien, and Taki all demand hugs.  Yokaze just smiles, not seeming to mind.  But when Duo approaches her bed, she holds out her hand to him.  He clasps it and tells her, "Don't make me have to come back here and talk you to sleep."

            She chuckles.  "Well, if anyone could do it..."

            "Hey, hey!" Duo protests with a grin.

            Yokaze makes no attempt to reply.  Duo watches as she leans across the pillows, reaching for something amongst the flowers and Get Well cards on the nightstand.  His eyes widen as she holds out a plain, white envelope to him.  And somehowhe just knowswho it's from.

**.**

            **Jaspien rolls over,** trying to get comfortable.  Not for the first time today he wishes Hero were here.  It's hard to fall asleep without Hero sitting next to his bed, scaring away the nightmares.  He smiles as he recalls when Hero had tried to tell him a bedtime story but it had actually been _Duo's_ story and Hero had been repeating it...

            The boy gazes at the familiar, shadowed room and wonders why Hero hasn't come home.  Had Jaspien done something wrong?  Had The Voice been too strong?  Was Hero hurt somewhere?  Jaspien bites his lip and repeats what Yokaze had told him: if Hero weren't okay, she wouldn't have left him alone.

            But if Hero's okay, then why hasn't he come back?

            With a sigh, Jaspien rolls out of bed.  Intending to head for the bathroom, he's a little surprised to see the kitchen light on.  He wanders toward it and hesitates before turning the corner.  He sees Duo, sitting at the table with a piece of paper in front of him on the table.  Jaspien watches for a minute, surprised that Duo is simply sitting.  He doesn't have anything to eat or drink.  He's not talking.  Not smiling.  In fact, he looks really sad.

            Jaspien shuffles into the light but Duo doesn't notice him.  It's not until the boy is right next to him and calls his name does Duo look up.

            He tries to smile.  "Hey, Jas.  Can't sleep?"

            Jaspien shakes his head.  Duo leans away from the table and offers the boy a hug.  "What's on your mind?"

            Without invitation, Jaspien climbs into the chair next to Duo's.  "How come Hero didn't come home?"

            Duo sighs.  "Heero had to go look for something.  Something important.  He wants to come home, but he's got to do this first."

            Jaspien is silent for a moment.  Digesting this.  "So, it's not because of me?"

            "No," Duo hurries to assure him.  "No, it's not because of you.  He misses you a lot.  He's going to come back, Jas.  He's going to come back."

            Their gazes meet and Jaspien believes him.  It's not his fault.  Hero will come back.  Jaspien takes a deep breath, feeling much better.  "Hey, Duo?"

            "Yeah?"

            "Can I have some hot chocolate before I go back to bed?"

            "Sure, dude."

            Duo stands and opens the refrigerator.  Jaspien watches Duo heat the milk and mix in the cocoa.  Then he smiles when Duo pulls out the bag of mini marshmallows and adds a fistful to each mug.

            "It's hot," Duo says, handing him a cup.

            Jaspien blows on the white, puffy surface of the drink and smiles.  This is why he likes Duo's hot chocolate way better than Hero's.  But Duo's pizza always turns out soggy on the bottom.  "I miss Hero," Jaspien says quietly.

            "Me, too, Jas.  Me, too."

            They drink their chocolate and speculate on where Heero is at the moment and what he might be doing.  Duo makes up several outrageous suggestions including but not limited to 'rescuing a princess from a fire-breathing Math teacher' and 'on a quest to find the legendary blue marshmallow.'  Jaspien giggles and grins.

            But when their mugs are empty, Duo ushers the boy back to bed and tucks him in.  "Sleep well, Jas."

            As Duo leans away, Jaspien reaches out and wraps his small fingers around Duo's wrist.  "Duo?  Will you stay?  Just for a little while?  Until I fall asleep?"

            "Sure, Jas.  Do you want me to tell you a story?"

            Slowly, Jaspien shakes his head.  "No.  Just stay.  The nightmares won't come if they know you're here."

            Duo hesitates as he sits in the chair.  "Is that what Heero does?"

            The boy nods, eyelids drifting shut.

            He tries to swallow around the pain suddenly squeezing his chest.  "Well, I don't know if I'm as good at it as he is, but I'll try, Jas."

            Jaspien smiles and rolls onto his side.  Duo watches him curl up into a ball and listens as his breathing slows.  After a few minutes, Duo is sure that Jaspien is asleep.  He takes a deep breath, knowing that he's run out of excuses to stay; Jaspien is safe from his nightmares.  So Duo leaves the room as quietly as possible and gently closes the door behind him.  For a moment, he hovers in the hall, uncertain.  He briefly considers taking a shower, trying to get some sleep...  But in the end, he finds himself seated at the kitchen table again, watching the door.

            He sighs and runs his hands through his hair.  _I'm such an idiot for even thinking that's door's gonna open._  Despite what he'd just told Jaspien, Duo isn't sure that Heero's absence isn't someone's fault.  _My fault._  But even as he thinks this, he can't decide exactly how it is his fault.  Had his anger driven Heero away?  Or had Heero somehow found out how Duo really feels?  And why had Heero kissed him in the first place?

            God, it's so _confusing._

            Duo's gaze returns to the tabletop and the single sheet of plain, white paper.

            _God dammit, Heero.__  What am I supposed to think?_

            Almost ten years of friendship... over.  Or are they?

            _You didn't give me much to go on._

            All Duo is sure of is that he can't afford to hope.  Hope hurts too damn much.

            The night watches the long-haired young man sit as still as a statue well into the early hours of the morning, kept company by the short letter laying open on the table next to him:

            _My Friend,_

_            I have lived in awe of your generosity for years but have never taken the opportunity to tell you so.  For never giving up on me, I thank you.  You have never failed to offer me your strength, your compassion, and your honesty._

_            It is that unwavering honesty which compels me to do this for I find that I can offer you nothing less than the truth.  What that truth is I do not yet know for sure._

_            I must follow my emotions.  I must discover where they are leading me.  Please understand why I must do this, Duo._

_            For us._

_            Heero._

**.**

**~End of Chapter 33~**


	35. Resolution

**Mission**** One**

**Resolution**

**.**

            **"I see** we have a new... guest."

            "Yes, Dr. Kay."

            The doctor looks up through her brows at her assistant.  Indicating the pitifully thin file in her hands, she asks, "Is this all we have on him?"

            The assistant nods.  "At the moment, yes.  The rest of his records are electronic.  They should be fully integrated into the database by the end of the week."

            Dr. Kay sighs.  "Damn but I hate all this bureaucratic red tape."

            The assistant says nothing.

            She glances down at the papers again.  "I see Jens and Lawrence were on duty when he came in last night."  For a moment, she wonders if they might know anything that's not in this folder, but then she spies their report.  She scans the page, noting nothing helpful.  "Well, at least they were thorough," she muses wryly.  With a sigh, the doctor checks her watch and stands.  "Well, I have a little time... I think I'll swing by and take a look at him."  She glances at her assistant.  "Are you curious?"

            The assistant grins shyly.  "A little."

            "Well, come one, then."

            The pair head down the hall, passing both open and closed doors.  Other doctors are working on their computers, talking on the phone, and making recordings of the day's observations.  Dr. Kay and her assistant step into the elevator and begin their descent.  The assistant fidgets then smiles apologetically when the movements draw the doctor's attention.

            "I'm sorry.  It's just that I haven't been down here before."

            Dr. Kay smiles.  "Yes, well, considering your area of interest, I thought you might like to take a look.  The medical profession doesn't solely focus on healing the injured and the ill.  There is so much more we can learn _after_ the fact..."

            The assistant nods in agreement.

            The elevator slows to a gentle stop and the doors whisper open.  Leading the way, Dr. Kay steps into the long, white hall.  She flips open the file and memorizes the room number.  Beside her, the assistant is busy glancing about, soaking up as much as possible.  They turn down a second hall and stop abruptly in front of a plain, white door.

            "This is it," Dr. Kay mutters and slides her access card into the lock.  The door swings out into the hall, admitting the doctor and assistant.  "The observation room."  With a sweep of her hand, Dr. Kay indicates that her assistant is to precede her.

            The two of them step into the room and close the door behind them.  Then, to their surprise, they both note that one of the senior staff members is already evaluating the new arrival on the other side of the glass.  Dr. Kay moves toward the computer console with a grin.  "Shall we?" she invites, flipping the switch to activate the room's speakers.

            The voice of the doctor on the other side of the glass softly fills the room.  "...shall I call you then?"

            There is a long pause as the man sitting against the wall considers his reply.  In the end, he says nothing and simply stares at his surroundings with interest.

            The doctor tries again, "Do you know why you're here?"

            "Hm..." the patient says, still considering the walls and ceiling.  "I'm here because I am hers."

            "Whose?"

            The patient turns his ice blue eyes toward the doctor and grins.  "You can't understand.  I can see that you've never had that kind of connection with someone."

            "What connection is that?"

            The man smiles.  "I thought she was mine and I was hers.  That we belonged together.  Forever.  But she's denied me.  Denied us."

            "What has she denied you?"

            Laughter tumbles through the room.  "She has surpassed her creator," the man muses, evading the question.  "Even I never considered..."  He shakes his head, leans back against the wall, closes his eyes, and whispers, "She is perfection.  And I am hers."  He opens his eyes and focuses on his interrogator.  "I hope you are capable of making that profound distinction, doctor.  _I_ am _hers._  Not: _she_ is _mine._"  He sighs.  "A formidable creation... _opponent_... indeed."  And then he grins.  "I'm terribly sorry to be bragging to you like this.  It's just that it's too good to not share."

            Those are the man's final words.

            The doctor asks more questions, attempts to elicit a response, but the patient has nothing further to say.  Dr. Kay turns off the speakers as the interviewer leaves the room.  Together, the doctor and her assistant watch the man on the other side of the glass.  He stares at the walls around him, smiling.

            Voice soft, the assistant muses aloud, "I wonder what it is he sees."

            The doctor replies with a small shrug and leads the way back to the offices.  As they walk away, they are unaware that what the General sees is the white.

**.**

**~End~**

**.**

**Author's Notes:**

I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who reviewed (especially the precious few obsessive, repeat reviewers... you know who you are!), offering their reactions and encouragement. I treasure your thoughts and hope my fiction comes close to having the same affect on you.

Although I have decided to end _Mission One_, do not despair: I have several other works in progress at the moment. These include:

_The Taki and Wufei Story: A Companion Fiction to The Perfect Soldier._ This story is for those of you who wondered precisely how Wufei and Taki managed to get it together. With their head-strong personalities and explosive chemistry, it seems like they'd need a miracle.

_Caged: A Companion Fiction to The Perfect Soldier._  Everyone knows Heero self-destructs in the series (episode 10), but how did his actions affect Yokaze?  Dark, angsty, and short, this story is about how Heero's decision influences the way Yokaze lives her life.

_Roommates: Prequel to __Mission__ One._ Does anyone besides me wonder what it was like for Trowa and Yokaze to share an apartment at the academy? And what about her band members? What are they like? And why is it Trowa had such a hard time accepting the fact that Yokaze wants to be around him? (This is a rather ambitious undertaking considering I want to answer all these questions yet keep the fic pretty short.)

_Night Wind: Sequel to __Mission__ One._ Yes, I plan to continue the tale, addressing, among other things, Heero and Duo's relationship. There will be pain and anguish and sorrow in this fiction, but I can promise that you won't feel like killing yourself at the end. I can't give away any hints; you'll just have to trust me.

I would also like to take this opportunity to say how totally baffled I am that so many of my reviewers like Yokaze. When I set out to write _The Perfect Soldier_ I wanted to create a character that _could have_ existed in the official Gundam Wing universe. I looked at _The Perfect Soldier_ as a continuation of the series rather than a separate version of it. Still, even though I tailored Yokaze for Gundam Wing and not vice versa, I am consistently amazed by the positive response I get from my readers about her. Which makes it extra hard for me to kill her off. I keep trying, but thus far, no deal. Oh well.

Thank you for following this story with me. And, inspiration willing, there will be more to read from me in the future.

May you live long and ingest as many legal stimulants as you can stand.

~ The Manwell


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